Bound
by SandmanCircus
Summary: Resbang 2014 - On a planet funded by bloodshed, to be a gladiator is to be great. However, when a girl who was never supposed to be one is stuck with a very reluctant partner… well, things get a little crazy. SoulMaka.
1. Chapter 1

Hey! This is my fic for Resbang, a Soul Eater fandom writing challenge that takes place from July to December. My partner in crime is the amazing Aqua-twin, who drew _awesome_ (like holy balls is it great) art for this fic, which I will link to on my profile page! (additional thank you's will be posted in the last chapter) Also, sorry for the massive spam in your inbox.

Warnings: Violence, minor character death, bad guy oc

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><p><span><strong>Bound<strong>

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><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

His round eyes watched her as he bit into the over-ripe berry, juices rolling down his chin like tiny beads of blood in the dim light. He wiped the liquid away with a fat wrist. "So," he grunted, and his cheeks jiggled like the milk jello he'd stuffed into his mouth at intermittent points throughout the conversation. "I hear you're still badgering my men about joining the tournament."

"That's correct," Maka replied shortly. She glanced from the fat man to the twin guards that stood sternly on either side of him, both of whom watched her like she was a bug beneath their feet—ready to be squashed at a moment's notice. Though they had the bodies of men, their heads were that of pigs, their protruding tusks sheathed in a gold coating and the thin, fleshy bits of their ears pierced with ornate beads. One crossed his arms menacingly, the large gun hooked to his belt flashing. Maka swallowed thickly and returned her gaze to the large man before her.

He snorted. "I thought I told you that wasn't going to happen." The man, Tobias, lifted a hand and beckoned his servant closer. "Bring me more meat," he murmured to her, "not fish. Koas. The ribs." As the violet-skinned woman nodded and hurried away to do as he bid, his bloodshot eyes followed her swaying rear with a leering intensity. Maka cringed when he licked his lips.

"As I was saying," he continued once his gaze returned to Maka, "women aren't allowed in my tournament."

"You said all I would need was a wisp and the binding bracelets," Maka reminded him through gritted teeth—_politely_. "And I _have_ the bracelets."

A loud, echoing laugh, halfway between a cough and a snort, erupted suddenly from his lips and reverberated around the elegantly draped room. "So you actually stole your deadbeat father's binding bracers?!" he asked, a great deal of mirth in his words.

Maka's gaze grew hard as she hissed, "_He's not a deadbeat_." The guilt, she noticed bitterly, made her tone sharper.

Tobias ignored her and wiped the tears from his eyes. "That is priceless," he gasped. "His own daughter stole his most prized possessions. You are wicked, my dear. Truly a treasure."

Maka clenched her fists. "You said I could join if I got them," she said, raising her voice over his joyful chuckles in an attempt to return him to their topic of conversation. "You said they were all I needed."

"Not all," he reminded through sporadic snorts of amusement. When he finally quieted down, after a sloppy sip of wine, he told her smugly, "As you so eloquently pointed out yourself, young lady, you are still in need of a wisp. And as you know, _I _am the sole owner of all bondable wisps on this planet."

Maka shifted her feet, felt the sweat collect at her palms. Glancing at the guards, she cleared her throat nervously and turned to Tobias. "If you would just let me _try_, I know I could prove to you how good I am," she implored, her stomach twisting. The small hope she'd harboured that this meeting would go as planned was rapidly fading. At his bored look, she tried a different approach. "The rules of the tournament don't say anything about restricting female participants."

"Yes," he allowed absently, a smile on his lips as he turned to the tray being placed on his desk. His fingers fluttered over the array of meats before he picked out a particularly juicy rib. Waving it at her in his thick hands, he said, "But, you see, you will never be allowed one of my wisps. Do you know why?"

Maka slowly breathed out through her nose. "Because I'm a woman?" she guessed, the battle to remain indifferent a losing one. Her eyes were hard as she glared at him, the tips of her nails digging half moons into her palms.

"And do you know where a woman's place is, Maka?" He bit into the rib and told her, mouth full, the slick bone in his fingers waving around the air, "On her back, on her bed, or on her knees."

Maka took a step towards him, the sizzling anger a slow burn in her chest. It festered, writhing up from the pit of her stomach like an old wound until her shoulders shook with the force of her rage. "You said—"

"I lied!" he spat, chortling loudly as food sprayed past his greasy lips. Tobias wiped them with an arm and nodded to someone behind her. "Now go away. I'm done with you," he lilted as two heavyset guards wrapped their meaty claws around her arms, their serrated, iron coated nails digging into her skin. Maka struggled against them in vain.

"And Maka," Tobias called, his tone smug as she was forcefully pulled away, "tell your father he still needs to pay off that gambling debt. I haven't received money since last week and we wouldn't want anything bad to happen to him, now would we?"

They threw her from the luxurious room and out onto the dirt-filled streets. The people walking by shrieked and scattered from the path as she landed in a large plume of dust. The two guards laughed from the doorway, and their oversized snouts made them sound like two snorting pigs as they slapped imaginary dust from their hands. "Stay away unless you wan' some o' _this_," one called back suggestively, cupping his crotch and licking his incisors. "I'll show you what a _real_ gladiator looks like."

Cheeks burning with humiliation, Maka angrily pushed herself off the ground. When the two snickering oafs disappeared behind the red drapes that acted as a doorway, Maka pulled out a sheet of paper from the waist of her pants. It was worn, folded so many times that the creases had lost their colour—but the vibrant design it boasted was still legible.

The page was an advertisement for the Death Planet gladiator tournament held at that time each year. It brought thousands of visitors to the planet—providing the merchants with more revenue than most knew how to manage.

While the tournaments had been going on for centuries, it was only in the last five decades that they had become the main attraction for Death Planet. Fifty years before, a drought began, turning the otherwise lush planet into a rocky desert. Crops dried up, farmers ran out of business, and people were dying from lack of food and water. As a last solution, the gladiator tournaments were advertised throughout the galaxy and increased in size. Within a year they had more money pouring in than ever before.

The tournament she was currently interested in, the one advertised on the flyer, wasn't like the ones the planet held every month. This one had been created for the purpose of finding and initiating new gladiators. They allowed new warriors to participate and if they won, they would receive—in addition to the other prizes—a job as one of the warriors who lived in the colosseum and fought regularly.

The paper crumpled in her fists.

A gladiator wasa being that resulted from the bound combination of a warrior and a wisp, the unity of both melee and magic. With the combined skill of both disciplines, gladiators were heroes, seen as gods and icons among the planet populous. Maka _had_ the ability to fight required of a warrior—had been taught to defend herself from a young age by her father. The problem lay in finding a wisp, an ethereal spirit that inhabited the magically sustained forests of the planet who would supply the magic.

She also had the bracelets that would bind them as one, arguably the more difficult of the two to obtain as they were complicated to craft, and therefore extremely expensive. All that she needed now was the wisp. Which, in itself, shouldn't have been the problem—had she been a male it _wouldn't_ have been. Unfortunately, all known wisps were owned by Tobias and only given to up-and-coming _male_ warriors who had shown promise, or at the prodding of influential families.

Maka kicked the dusty road with her worn-out sandal, stuffed the flyer back into her pants, and shuffled miserably down the street towards home. Or she would have, had something not caught her eye—something blue that was climbing up the side of Tobias's building. Her head automatically darted left—back to the entrance she was just thrown out of—and the guard positioned there blew her a mocking kiss. Making a face, Maka moved towards the short alley and looked back up the building.

Now that she was closer to the building and could see more clearly, Maka recognized the person. Before he'd gotten a job in construction, he used to be one of the orphans that ran around the city, stealing from people and generally causing havoc. This particular brand of street vermin owed her three apples and a lady's handkerchief which _she_ had rightfully stolen first. "What are you doing?" Maka called up to him, crossing her arms.

The man jolted in response, barely able to keep his hold on the window sill. He looked down nervously, but ultimately rolled his eyes upon seeing who it was that had spotted him. "Oh, it's _you_."

Narrowing her eyes, Maka looked from his face to the window he still clung to. "Are you _spying_ on Tobias's daughter?" she asked, incredulous. Maka glanced behind her quickly to make sure no one was listening and, under her breath, added in a hiss, "Do you have a _death wish_?"

He snorted. "No, but I hear you do," he said conversationally, lifting himself once more to peer over the ledge. "Trying to become a gladiator, are we? Ambitious."

Maka glared. "It isn't when you've trained as hard as I have," she defended, then after a moment, "and _would you please get down_?"

"Look, I'm not going to give up the chance to see the hottest tits on the planet just because some uptight little girl has a problem with it. Now go away."

Lips pressed tightly together, Maka quickly searched the ground and spotted a stone roughly the size of her fist. She lifted it up, bouncing it in her hand a couple times. "Uptight, huh?" she muttered, gauging the distance as she set up her arm to throw.

"That's what I—Ahh!"

Maka watched with a great deal of satisfaction as the boy fell from his perch to the hard-packed earth below. She sauntered closer, her face smug as she crossed her arms and stared down her nose at him. He just glared.

"Hey!" Torn from her musings, Maka turned to see one of the guards run into the alley. His solid black eyes moved from Maka to the boy on the ground, and his expression grew angry. "You're Bluestar," he growled, stepping closer, "that pick-pocket! I thought I told you to stay away from here!"

The boy gave a long suffering sigh and briefly rolled his eyes at Maka before tilting his head back in the dirt. "It's _Blackstar_, you idiot," he stated, promptly making a rude gesture at the guard.

The guard growled, baring his teeth, and stomped through the alley towards them. He pulled the sophisticated gun from his hip and aimed it. With a wicked laugh, Blackstar quickly scrambled to his feet and scaled the nearby fence. Once he'd climbed to the top, he called back over his shoulder. "Oh yeah! She stole your money!"

Maka could only gape in shock as Blackstar gave them both a little wave before jumping to the other side of the barrier with a wicked laugh. She turned with wide eyes to the guard. "Uh—"

The man's head whipped to her, a cruel snarl on his face as he patted a quick hand over his hip. Finding nothing, he started slowly upon Maka, advancing until her back hit the clay building. His beady eyes stared down menacingly into her own. "You think you can steal from me?"

Maka lifted her leg and kicked him as hard as she could in the balls. He immediately doubled over with a high pitched squeal; she took the opportunity to smash her elbow into his neck. He collapsed.

"Hey!"

Maka turned her head to see more guards pooling around the alley entrance. With a curse, she took a running start and leapt up the wooden fence, slamming into the surface roughly. Hands barely reaching the top, Maka gritted her teeth and pulled herself up, using her legs as leverage.

Bullets slammed with quick succession into the wood, and she accelerated her pace until she managed to land with an _oof _on the other side.

Groaning, Maka pushed herself up and dusted off her knees. When she looked up to see Blackstar counting out the gold pieces in a satin coin purse, she growled.

Maka stomped forward and, when he looked back upon noticing her presence, punched him square in the face. "You asshole!" she hissed vehemently. "You could've gotten me killed!"

Blackstar's hands flew up to clutch his nose. "Crazy bitch!" he spat, the blood already dripping from between his fingers.

She took the opportunity to pinch the purse from his fingers. "If they report back to Tobias, you might have ruined my chances of getting a wisp! Some friend you are!"

Blackstar snorted, or at least made a snort-like sound, from behind his bloody fingers. "Are you blind or just stupid? Tobias will _never_ give you a wisp, let alone let you join the most prestigious tournament in the galaxy." He released his nose tentatively before looking down at his fingers. Grimacing in disgust, he wiped them on his shirt and addressed Maka once more, "Your only chance is to get one yourself."

That made Maka pause. "Myself? You mean go in the forest?" She swallowed thickly. "It's forbidden."

Blackstar grinned up at Maka, resting an arm on his leg as he raised an eyebrow. "You scared or something?"

"It's _forbidden_, you idiot."

His grin widened. "You're not exactly a law-abiding citizen."

Maka sighed, eyes rolling heavenward before they locked on the blue-haired thief once more. "Even if I did think that would work, _which I don't_, I would still need a cloaking device to enter," she said, crossing her arms and giving a brief shrug. "Without it, the creatures in there would rip me apart."

"What if I told you I could get you one?" Blackstar asked, a mischievous glint in his eye. "What then?"

Maka felt her heart pick up at his words, but she willed her face to remain carefully blank. There was always a catch with Blackstar; she'd learned that the hard way. "I would ask what you wanted for it."

"I dunno," Blackstar laced his fingers behind his head and leaned against the wall, legs kicked out in front of him, "what do you have?" His position was relaxed, and had Maka not known him since she was young, she might have been fooled by his demeanour. Despite his appearances, Blackstar was smart, conniving, and good at getting what he wanted.

"I could give you part of my winnings in the tournament," Maka offered.

Blackstar snorted. "So I would get my money _after_ you survive the incredibly dangerous outlands and _after_ you win the impossible to win tournament?"

Maka shifted on her feet. "Yes?"

"No," Blackstar deadpanned. "What else you got?"

Maka sighed, rubbing the back of her neck as she thought. Her stomach turned queasy as the solution came to her. She swallowed and squeezed her eyes shut briefly before turning back to Blackstar. "I'll give you the locket," she said quietly, "the one you always ask me about." It was her father's locket. Blackstar had seen it once in passing and had pestered her about it incessantly ever since.

He smirked, and the sparkle in his eyes told her that that was what he'd wanted all along. "Meet me at the city border as soon as the sun sets."

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><p>...<p>

Later that day, Maka slipped from the crowd and disappeared into the shadowed, dusty alleyways of the city. Her woven sandals clapped loudly against the dirt as she sprinted through the shadows, her bag banging against her hip as she ran.

When she deemed herself a far enough distance from the bustling people, Maka darted behind a small house. She crouched low and dumped her daily findings onto the earth. Two pieces of stale bread fell out, followed by three rings, a rusted dagger, and the coin purse she'd taken earlier from Blackstar. She picked it up and untied the string to reveal several copper pieces. No silver. _No gold_.

It would buy food for tonight at least.

A noise erupted close by, jolting Maka from her thoughts. She looked up, heart racing in her chest, before she forced herself to quickly collect all her things and stuff them into her pack. She spared the alley behind her a hesitant glance before sliding out onto the main road and hurrying towards home.

The rumpled old shack she lived in with her father soon came into view from across the street, a small structure that would have collapsed years ago had it not been for the two towering inns it was squished between. Her gait slowed to a walk in an effort to appear less suspicious as she crossed the busy road, sliding past shuffling carts and loud, complaining animals. The door to the shack was made of a crude leather drape that hung haphazardly from several nails in the wood, and the smooth surface of it crackled pleasantly beneath her hand when she pushed it aside. Maka stepped in and the familiar musky odour enveloped her. "Dad, I've got—"

"Uhnn!" Maka's head jerked around to the small bed in the corner and saw two bodies slapping lewdly together under the blanket. "Mmh!"

"_Spirit!_" she shrieked and flung her hands over her eyes. "What are you doing?!"

"Ayy, Maka!" was the slurred response. She heard the rustling of sheets and didn't dare look. "You're home early."

She peaked through her fingers so she could see his face and nothing else. "You can't keep bringing prostitutes home, I told you! We can't afford them!"

Her father stood up from the bed and wrapped the thin sheet around his hips, leaving the woman he left completely bare. He stumbled over to the corner of the room where a large bottle of booze waited for him. "It's fine..." Spirit mumbled with a disinterested shrug, picking up the alcohol and taking a healthy swig.

Spirit was a tall, gangly sort of man, who hunched greatly and swung his greasy hair from his eyes frequently throughout the day. Now, as he wiped away the liquid smeared on his prickly chin, he appeared as apathetic as ever. The disinterest rolled off him in waves.

Smothering her growl, Maka looked to the painted face of the blue-skinned prostitute. She was braiding the tentacles that wriggled at her back. "You have to leave," Maka told her firmly, though not unkindly. She was trying not to imagine what her father had been doing with those tentacles.

The woman shrugged, wiping her face and blinking her long lashes up at Maka. "I'm gone just as soon as I get paid."

Sending Spirit a scathing glance, Maka dug into her bag and pulled out the coin purse. She picked out four copper pieces that should have been used to pay for their dinner and handed them to the prostitute. After counting them out, the woman left the room with one wave at Spirit.

"What are we going to eat tonight?" Maka intoned without looking at her father.

He set the bottle aside with a _clunk_ on a nearby table. "I don't care."

Maka rolled her eyes and bent down to lift one of the floorboards, the space beneath used to conceal their more valuable belongings. She set the wood to one side and sifted through the various knick-knacks and nostalgic junk.

Her heart jumped to her throat. "Spirit," she began in a quiet voice. "Where is the money?"

"Hm?"

Maka turned to him. Spirit moved with jerky steps back to the mattress—his almost permanent residence as of late—and stretched his body like a lazy feline beneath the thin sheet before collapsing back. "Where is my money?" she repeated carefully.

Spirit snorted. "Oh please, it isn't like you earned it yourself. You stole it from the people waiting to see the gladiators." The last part was said with a haunted wistfulness, the same tone he used whenever he talked about the gladiators, the colosseum, the fighting… his partner.

Maka's eyes strayed to the mark burnt into his shoulder; two connected rings with a horizontal sword between them. The mark of a gladiator.

The mark of a man partnered with another so intrinsically that he went near mad after his death.

Spirit often spoke about his days in the colosseum, the heat against his skin, the sweat on his palms. _That was what it meant to be alive_, he'd say to her, his eyes glassy and distant, though for a moment they'd lose their haziness and spark with life,_ those were the days_.

They say when a gladiator loses his wisp, it's like a part of his soul is torn from his body. Maka never believed it, at least not at first. How could a man be so influenced by something that had happened over two decades ago? Besides, she had always been with him.

She should have been enough.

Years ago, during one of his less coherent nights, she'd heard from one of their neighbours that Spirit had fallen hard when his wisp died, gambling away the extensive fortune he'd accumulated over his career into Tobias's eager hands—abandoned by his fans and those he once called friends in his fall from fame. In his despair, Tobias had taken advantage of Spirit—was _still_ taking advantage of him. Spirit was supposedly too mournful to hold a grudge against those that had scorned and used him.

Maka, however, wasn't.

"Get out of bed, you drunkard," she told him as she stuffed her findings into the hiding space. Before she replaced the floorboard, Maka slipped her hand inside and pulled out her father's locket—given to him 25 years before when he'd first met his wisp. Gritting her teeth against the guilt, Maka stuffed it in her bag.

"But Maaaaaka," he whined, burying himself further under his ratty blanket so only his greasy red hair was showing.

"You need to go to work!"

"Can't. Fired," he slurred.

"_Spirit!_"

"I told you to call me papa," Spirit muttered, his voice muffled by the covers. "Get my bracelets, would you? Papa wants to hold them." He meant the golden binding bracelets that had permanently bound him and his partner together. When death had torn them apart, the bangles had fallen off. He now kept them in a velvet bag in the corner, often holding them throughout the day. He didn't use to so much when she was younger, but as she'd aged his obsession with them grew.

Maka swallowed. "They're not there," she told him.

"What?" asked Spirit, who grew pale. He lifted shakily off the bed, appearing sober for the first time as he turned to her. His breathing picked up when he prompted, "What do you mean?"

She didn't meet his eyes. "I'm sure they're just misplaced. I'll look for them later, okay?"

While he still looked worried, Spirit nodded. "That's my girl..." his voice faded as his eyes returned to their hazy appearance, her father once again replaced with the broken man who was appearing more and more as the years past.

"Anyway, I just dropped by. I'm going to go get dinner," she told him, pulling her bag over her shoulder—the weight of the binding bracelets she'd hidden inside sent a twinge of guilt racing through her heart.

"To steal, you mean," Spirit mumbled into the pillow.

Maka ignored him. "I'll be back soon."

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><p>…<p>

The shed was a little worse for wear, but she supposed it would have to do. Maka closed the door, wincing as it groaned in protest, and locked it firmly. If she did find a wisp tonight, she would need a place to hide it until the tournament began.

Her father had built the shed for her to play in as a kid—when he still paid attention to her—and for the most part it had remained untouched over the years. It was located on the outskirts of the city, just before the forests of the outlands began. No one should bother to look inside anytime soon and, as it was hidden behind a small outcropping of rock, no one would accidentally see anything either.

Wiping her hands quickly on her pants, Maka looked up at the sky. The sun had set not too long before, revealing the stars and three moons above. She was late for her meeting, but she wasn't worried; the heat of day had yet to cool and Blackstar was not one known for punctuality.

Maka walked alone beneath the stars, her small lantern banging against her leg every now and then. Her heart felt heavy as she thought of the tournament. She paused a moment to pull out the flyer before continuing on—she knew the path and felt confident even as her gaze fell upon the worn paper. The 100,000 gold reward glared back at her like an impossible dream, and Maka had to keep herself from tearing the page apart when her fingers unconsciously clenched around it.

It was the only way for her to make money. No one would hire her, and the constant ridicule her father received, coupled with his almost legendary irresponsibility, insured he never had a stable job. More than anything, though, it would be a chance to prove herself. Her eyes drifted to the stone colosseum that stood proudly at the centre of the city, taller than any other building for miles. Even as far away as she was, the great building was easily discernable within the darkness.

Her heart ached with longing at the sight. Gladiator battles were said to be as ferocious as they were beautiful, and people traveled far and wide to witness the magical partnership within the great stone arena. If she did this, if she _succeeded_, she would be revered in the eyes of those who looked down upon her, and no one would dare make fun of her father again.

"Hey!" Maka turned at the familiar voice to see Blackstar running over to her. He clapped his hands together, ridding them of dirt, as he sauntered forwards. "I wasn't sure you'd show, although who could resist a meeting with the great me?"

Maka folded the paper and carefully put it away. "Do you have it?" she asked.

In answer, Blackstar held up a small, rounded object. Its face was smooth, obstructed only by a few dents and the twisting wires embedded into its surface. The edges were slightly coarser, ripples carved around the sides. "And your end?" Blackstar urged, tearing her from her thoughts.

Maka pulled out the gold locket. When Blackstar reached for it, she pulled it back. "You can't sell it until after I win the tournament," Maka said at his look of confusion. "I'm going to buy it back with the money I win."

Blackstar blinked and quickly shook his head. "No deal."

"What?" Maka sputtered. "Why not? You know I'll pay you double what it's worth."

"I'm going to give it to Tsubaki."

"Tsubaki?" Maka repeated, mentally wracking her brain for the familiar name. Then it hit her, and she could have groaned. "Tobias's daughter?" she asked, disbelieving. "You can't _actually_ believe you have any chance with her?"

"It's more likely than you becoming a gladiator," he sniffed.

Maka wanted to argue—on the grounds that hell would sooner freeze over before Tobias would allow anyone but a prince to even _look_ at his daughter—but decided it wouldn't do her any good.

"Fine, you can keep it." She ignored the stab of guilt. It wasn't like her father cared about anything lately other than his precious, dead wisp. Blackstar handed over the cloaking device; Maka relinquished her father's locket in exchange.

"Pleasure doing business with you," Blackstar chirped, carefully wrapping the chain around the gold pendant neatly before placing it in his pocket. He fastened it closed with a button.

Maka watched him handle the locket with a raised eyebrow, noting the uncharacteristic care he took with it. Shaking her head, she looked down at the object in her hand. It was pleasantly warm in her palm—a strange sensation in the cold night air—and also much heavier than she would have thought. "So this will keep me safe from the creatures in the forest?" she asked, twisting it around to get a better look at it.

Blackstar nodded. "It should last until morning. Never tried it out myself, mind you."

That didn't exactly help her confidence but it would have to do, Maka decided as she shoved it in her bag. It wouldn't do her any good to turn back now.

"So you're really going?" Blackstar asked curiously. "_Now?_"

Maka nodded. "The tournament begins in two days," she said, turning to face him. "I need to get my wisp."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"Move, you stupid branch!" Maka grated through her teeth as she struggled, hacking at the thick bark with a machete (one she'd pinched from one of the houses on her way to the forest). The branch groaned beneath the pressure but otherwise remained intact, as sturdy as ever. After long moments and no progress, Maka armed the sweat from her brow and backed off, panting. She scrutinized her efforts.

Nothing—not even a dent.

Shouting her frustration, Maka kicked the tree with all her strength, and the resulting pain had her bouncing on one foot as she clutched the other. "Of all the toad-footed, gnat-infested weasel shits_..._" she spat. Small birds flew from the nearby bushes at her expletives, rushing past her with their tiny wings and bright feathers.

Something warm splattered against her cheek.

Maka screamed and hit the branch as hard as she could with her blade. It shook twice before stilling, unaffected.

Huffing angrily, she tossed the machete aside and slumped down onto the mossy earth in defeat. The forest was the only place not affected by the mysterious drought that had plagued Death Planet fifty years ago, though no one knew why. For whatever reason, it only ever rained over the eerie woods.

Eyes narrowed on the tree that grew in her path, Maka pulled out the cloaking device Blackstar had given her. It hummed quietly in her hand, the metal warm against her skin. She flicked the flashing red light, the one that supposedly meant it was working—or at least that's what Blackstar had told her.

Maka sighed, stuffing the piece of junk back into her pocket as she looked up through the trees to see the two moons glowing brightly, the third just hidden from view. Before she'd come upon her obstacle, she'd been walking for what felt like hours, stomping through the crude underbrush and prickly thorns of the outland forests to find _nothing_.

No wisps, no wildlife, not even the supposedly dangerous creatures that wandered these woods.

Just stupid branches and trees that blocked her way.

Maka scrubbed a hand down her face. Perhaps she should try again tomorrow? Even as the idea entered her mind, however, her gut protested. She wouldn't have the time she needed to practice—to get used to fighting with another. If she was going to get a wisp from the forest she needed to get it sooner rather than later. In other words: tonight.

Unconsciously, her hands found the binding bracelets she'd stowed in her bag. She shifted the fabric of her purse so that the shiny gold was visible. The thick metal flashed brightly, even in the faint light of the moons, and the intricately carved shapes twisted and twined around the powerful and unassuming bracer. For a moment she simply stared. How many times, she wondered with a frown, had she seen her father hold these, simply watching them with a far away look in his eyes? Her fingers clenched around the metal. How many times had they gone hungry because of it?

Maka let it go with a quiet breath, and let her head fall in her hands. Things weren't turning out at all like how she'd hoped. She'd almost lost a shoe in a sticky bog, had flies rush her from hidden burrows, and had even very nearly been crushed by a falling tree.

Maka sighed, a great heaving noise in the tittering night. Maybe she _should_ just—

A branch cracked loudly in front of her. Maka jumped, head darting up as she opened her eyes.

Seemingly out of nowhere, a man stared back at her, cloaked in a transparent, smoky white aura.

His hair was a snowy white, floating around his face with otherworldly energy. He blinked at her, the faint red of his eyes reminding her of the rubies the tourists sometimes wore when they visited the planet for the tournaments.

In return, Maka could only gape, frozen in her spot as she stared stupidly at the being before her. She was caught suddenly by how incredibly odd the situation felt—how surreal. She wasn't sure how long they stood staring at one another, though it wasn't a stretch to say she was far more entranced with him than he was with her.

He moved, only the slightest of steps back, but it was enough to jolt Maka from her musings. Wide eyed, she frantically raised a hand to halt him. "Wait!" she cried, clumsily rising from her seat. "Don't go! Please!"

He backed away further, the distrust in his eyes turning to hostility. A second later, so quickly Maka would've missed it had she blinked, the man faded into a ball of smoky light. A silly grin split Maka's lips as she watched him move away, her suspicions confirmed.

It was a wisp.

"Stop!" she called again, frantically picking up the lantern she'd set aside when she'd been fighting with the branch. "Please wait!" Things gathered, Maka took off after the wisp, her heart in her throat as she chased him. Her foot hit a root and she tripped, but hurriedly righted herself and continued chasing the swaying spirit. Her heart was like a drum beneath her ribcage, beating wildly with the prospect of success.

Bugs flew around her face but she merely swatted them away and kept running. The wisp was leading her back the way she'd come, through the faint trail and over shimmering creaks. Twigs and leaves slapped against her face, and Maka began to regret leaving the machete behind.

It began to float through denser forest, up cliffs and over logs. In many instances, she'd only just barely scaled the obstacles in time; any later and she would've lost sight of her wisp. As she jumped over a small moat, Maka wondered idly where the spirit was running to.

A looming cave came into view then, the stalactites like teeth in the mouth of a beast. The image sent shivers down Maka's spine and, normally, she would have given her left foot to avoid the menacing space.

And it was precisely where the wisp was heading.

_Typical,_ Maka thought with a snarl, adjusting her path accordingly.

Her pace slowed to a walk as she hesitantly entered the pitch black cave. It was colder too, icy—in a way the pleasantly cool night air hadn't been. The wisp disappeared around the corner in the distance but Maka swallowed her fear, forcing herself to walk forward. She reached down and turned up the power of her lantern, raising it so it illuminated the walls around her in a bright circle of light.

"You're mine now," she muttered, and whether she was trying to convince herself or the wisp, she wasn't sure. After walking ahead a ways, no glow in sight, she added in a mutter, "I just have to find your glowing butt."

She walked around a corner, lantern first, and froze when she saw it. The wisp had stopped at a fork in the cavern, and seemed to be deciding between two exits. Maka grinned wickedly, creeping slowly forward.

Just as she began to approach, a sizzling net flew by—close enough to her face that she felt the crackling warmth of the electricity coursing through it. Stumbling back in shock, Maka could only watch as the net wrapped tightly around the unexpecting wisp that, caught unaware, immediately fell beneath the weight that trapped it.

A trickle of unease sank down in her gut as Maka examined the struggling being. Slowly, she turned in the direction the net had come, raising her light. Squinting as the faint sound of stomping footsteps grew louder, Maka didn't have to wait long to learn who—or rather, what—it was.

Trolls were rare, even on the diverse planet she lived on. And if any were seen at all, they were usually small, about half the size of a human on average. This one wasn't like that.

The hulking beast stomped into the path, his body almost too large for the space. Veins pulsated on the surface of his muscled flesh, moving beneath the crude apron he wore over his head. An apron with Tobias's mark—which meant the troll was one of his minions. He smiled cruelly as he thumped towards the small spirit, who had started steaming violently at the troll's entrance. "Finally caught you," he said, the troll's words guttural and thickly accented as they passed his slobber-coated lips. He regarded the struggling spirit for a moment. "Seems like the cash I forked over to pay for that enchanting spell was worth it. Look at you, stuck in your little fairy ball form." He cracked his knuckles. "Now I can _kill you _and get me money."

The words struck Maka as odd. Why would Tobias want to kill a wisp? Especially when he needed them to fight in the ring? She didn't have long to ponder the thought; the troll was closing in.

Maka braced, refusing to move now that she'd found her prize—only to have the troll completely ignore her despite the few scant metres she stood from the beast. Frozen, Maka gaped as he walked passed her—completely oblivious to her presence, though the putrid musk that wafted off his skin nearly made her gag. He moved towards the struggling wisp, the soft tendrils of its body beating wildly under the modified rope.

Maka quickly looked around the cave for something, _anything_, to stop the troll. The last thing she needed was some stupid minion killing _her _wisp. She spotted a rock and lunged for it. It was heavy, but her anger made lifting it easy.

Grunting, Maka launched the rock at the troll and it hit his temple with a _thunk_. He jerked at the force of the blow, but managed to remain upright. When he turned towards her, a confused expression on his wide set face, Maka thought she was done for. But then his gaze slid through her, as though she was invisible.

Because to him _she was_. The knowledge of it hit her with a jolt and her hand patted the cloaking device in her jacket with a growing smile. It had worked! She could _kiss_ Blackstar!

The troll's eyes slid back in his head then and, after swaying drunkenly for a moment, he fell in a heap to the ground.

Once the dust had settled, Maka picked up her lantern and shone the light over the rope. Her teeth gritted.

The wisp was gone.

Resisting the urge to stomp her feet, Maka paused a moment to think. It couldn't have gotten far, she thought, and even in the confusion she would have noticed it pass her—Maka's eyes rose to the dark path ahead—which meant it was still in the cave.

With that thought, she ran further into the darkness, a scarce hope still burning in her chest. Her dreams were so close she could practically taste them. And when Maka finally accomplished her goals, everyone would notice her—their prejudice gone in the wake of her successes. Her father would stop drinking, stop pining after something long gone, and she would finally be enough for him again.

They wouldn't live in poverty, they wouldn't struggle for every meal, they wouldn't have to steal to survive—

_Craaack._

Maka screamed shrilly as the ground beneath her feet crumbled away. Her hands grabbed at the edges as she fell, but it gave way beneath her fingers. She dropped down like a stone into the cool, icy water below.

Liquid pushed into her mouth and nose as Maka clawed at the surface. She couldn't swim, had never needed to learn in her dry desert city, and now her mind was blank with panic as she fought to stay afloat. Her hands found purchase on the wall and Maka gripped it desperately, to the point that her fingers bled. She breathed in deeply as she broke the surface, shaking with fear.

The rocks crumbled and Maka slid deeper into the dark depths with a panicked yelp.

Just when she thought that this might be it for her, that she would die there in the icy waters of the forest, a hand pushed through the water and grasped her own. Maka broke the surface with a gasping cough, pulled by the mysterious hand as she scrambled up the broken wall and back onto the cavern floor.

Coughing the water from her lungs, Maka inhaled raggedly. Through her spiky lashes she could see the glowing face of the wisp she'd followed hovering before her.

He was kneeling, a curious expression on his face. "You need to be more careful," he told her simply, his voice smooth and pleasant to her ears.

Her brows furrowed. "Wha…?"

The wisp helped her to stand, his smoky hands wrapping around her arms and pulling her upward. Maka wobbled on her feet but he steadied her. As she regained her balance with his aid, her eyes slowly rose to meet his, and, for a moment, she felt frozen in time.

Then, before she could second guess herself, Maka's hand dove into the purse at her hip and snatched one binding bracelet in her hand. The wisp's eyes darted to it and he jolted—probablywould have pulled away had she not held his arm in a firm grasp. Maka slid it over his hand.

He pushed her away, but it was too late. The bracer had already tightened around his arm.

Maka slipped the second bracer over her own arm, breathing a sigh of relief as it transformed to fit snuggly around her wrist. The cold ground scraped her knees as she collapsed with relief. She'd done it. She'd finally done it.

She had a wisp.

Screams echoed wildly around the cave, mind numbing in their intensity. Shocked at the sound, Maka quickly looked up to see her wisp clutching his head as he fought the binding. She could see he was trying to take his wisp form, the outline of his body straining to break it's shape—but again, it was too late. Before her very eyes, his skin took on a warm hue as it solidified into true human flesh.

And he was naked. Flushing, Maka deliberately looked anywhere but below his waist. Still, she found it hard to ignore her first penis sighting and, all the while blushing wildly, caught herself stealing a glance or two.

He collapsed to his knees.

"No..." she heard him whisper. His fingers dug into the soil beneath him. "No, no, no, _NO_!" His head shot up and Maka blinked stupidly at his scathing red eyes and pointed teeth. He pushed himself off the ground, limbs wobbling like a newborn deer, and stumbled over to her.

Maka cleared her throat. "You're my wisp now, you have to help—"

"You've killed me, you _bitch_."

His hands raised to reach for her and Maka scrambled to her feet, taking a step back. Just as he was about to make contact, he collapsed to his knees with a choked out cry.

Maka looked at him in confusion, but then it also hit her, with such force and intensity that she found herself falling to her knees beside him.

It felt like her entire being was being torn in two, yet at the same time, something was being forced into her. She became angry, afraid, mournful, and it took her a moment to realize these feelings weren't her own.

She looked to her wisp, the awareness of him—of the small bridge that grew out of nowhere and now connected both their minds—was acute.

When it was over, Maka's cheeks were wet with tears. She could scarcely move. She held her hand shakily to her chest, an unexplainable feeling of being whole surrounding her. Like she'd lived her entire life not knowing that this was how she was supposed to feel. Complete.

"I hate you."

Maka looked to see her wisp pushing himself from the ground. The glare he gave her when he turned was stony and cruel, making her wince. Rather than acknowledge it, however, she cleared her throat softly, rubbing her chest. "Don't you think you're being a bit dramatic?" she asked.

"What?" he shrilled, and his strange white hair looked a bit like an angry birds' nest.

"I brought you pants," she offered, sniffing and pulling out a pair from her bag. "Cause you're… y'know, _naked_. They should fit you. I'm also wearing an extra shirt in case you turned out to be a girl." When he only glared, she gently put the pants over his shoulder. Since they were wet, they made a _splat _against his skin.

He reared back violently, throwing the garment at her face. "Don't touch me!" he spat.

Maka held her hands up in a placating gesture. "Fine, be like that. But in the tournament you have to wear clothes or else we'll be disqualified."

The wisp scoffed, and his tone held a somber bitterness as he said, "You mean the contest where everyone dies? No thank you."

"Hey! Where are you going?!" she demanded, rushing to her feet when he turned on his heel.

"Away from you."

"You can't do that!" she yelled. "If we're apart too long we'll die!"

"And whose fault is that exactly?" he shot back.

"Stop!" Maka cried, hurrying to collect all her belongings (after a moment's pause she grabbed the pants, too) and running after him as he maneuvered out of the cave. "I won you fair and square, you have to help me win the prize money!"

The wisp whirled around and stomped towards her, close enough that her forehead would've bumped his chin had she not been leaning away. "Fair to whom, _exactly_?" he seethed. "Because it certainly wasn't fair to _me_." He turned around to leave again.

"You'll die if you go, we'll both die!"

That stopped him. "Unless I kill you," he murmured, his head tilting back to look at her menacingly. Maka met his hate-filled eyes calmly. Even without words they both knew he was lying. Their connection was already in place, already swaying their decisions in regards to the other. It tied them closer and closer together with each passing second.

"Face it, you have no other option," Maka said.

He whirled around. "Do you even have any idea what you've done!?" he cried. "What we've become to each other because of _your_ meddling?!"

"Of course I do," Maka retorted, hands on her hips. "We're partners."

His hands found his hair as he groaned. "You are _such_ an idiot!" her wisp shouted at her, flailing his arms around himself, presumably to prove his point. Maka just thought he looked a bit silly. "You've ruined us both! There will _never_ be one of us without the other! _We are forever connected_."

"That's the point," Maka stated plainly.

"You are unbelievable," he muttered through clenched teeth, as he looked down at the ground. Sighing, he closed his eyes. The wisp was quiet for a long while as he appeared to think, brows furrowed as though in deep concentration. "Where are we going?" he asked finally, voice coming out husky.

Maka beamed at him, reaching forward to grab his hand. He pulled it back, but she kept her grip firm. "Come with me," she said. "I have a shed I've prepared that you can hide in."

"_A shed?_"

But Maka was already walking away.

* * *

><p>…<p>

The walk back through the outland woods was silent, though Maka felt the bitterness radiate off her wisp like fumes. "I'm Maka, by the way," she called forward to him, her tone deliberately light. "Maka Albarn."

The wisp grunted.

A moment of silence, then, "Do you have a name?"

The wisp stopped, looked back, grated a stiff-lipped "No", and kept walking.

"You must be called _something_," Maka insisted, chasing after him. When she'd caught up, she tilted her head so she could meet his eye. "A nickname, perhaps?"

He turned to her, like she was a bug, and answered through his teeth, "_No_." Then a sparkle of something appeared in his eye and his lips twitched. "Although, they do occasionally refer to me as _Soul Eater._" He paused then, watching her closely, like he was waiting for a some sort of reaction.

He wasn't getting one. "So… your name is Soul?" Maka asked, crossing her arms.

"What?" Soul sputtered, a sneer on his face. "No, are you an idiot? That's just a title."

Maka shrugged. "Well, if you won't give me your name, _that's_ what I'll call you."

"I told you I don't have one!"

"Then Soul it is," Maka said, a triumphant grin on her lips. She raised an eyebrow, daring him to challenge her.

He just growled. "You're so annoying. Has anyone ever told you that?"

"Not recently," Maka replied with a ghost of a smile. She ignored his quizzical look and pushed onward, releasing a relieved sigh as they swiftly approached the forest exit. "Oh, thank the gods," she muttered. "This place was giving me the serious creeps."

As if her body knew rest would be available soon, all her joints began to ache, feet stinging with upcoming blisters. "The shack is over there," Maka said, pointing to the small wooden structure in the distance. "It shouldn't be too much further."

Soul's face was carefully blank when she looked at him. "I can see our life together is off to an excellent start," he deadpanned.

Maka snorted. "It's not permanent." She blinked when she noticed him hefting up a large log. "What are you doing?"

He ignored the second and answered her first statement. "I know it won't be."

"Wha—?"

Soul pulled back and swung hard.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Maka woke to a splitting headache, the pain so acute that she felt a groan push past her lips unbidden. She tried to sit up, to shove the heavier-than-usual covers off her body, but found that her arms wouldn't move. Confused, Maka blinked blearily down at her front, eyes widening when she found herself bound tightly in a thick rope.

"I see you're awake."

Maka's head whipped around at the voice to see a man—no, she thought, the memories of the night before coming back to her, her wisp. Soul. He sat beside her, arms crossed over his chest, and glaring. At least, she assumed he was glaring—he stood just in front of a blade of light, which darkened his features and haloed the frosty tips of his hair. Still not quite sure what was going on, her eyes moved from the blinding silhouette to study their surroundings. They were in the small shed she'd prepared the previous day, though she only vaguely remembered leading him here before…

"You hit me!" Maka gasped, struggling anew as the outrage filled her. She kicked out with her feet, but no matter how hard she fought her bonds, her efforts proved useless. After several minutes, Maka's head fell back and she went limp with a growl of frustration. "Why am I tied up?" she demanded, panting.

"We need to discuss our partnership," he answered loftily, staring down his nose at her. He'd said "partnership" like it was something vile he'd found lying at the bottom of a sewer.

"What are you talking about? There isn't anything to discuss!" Maka protested, staring at him in confusion. She was beginning to think that perhaps she'd picked out a dud. Weren't wisps suppose to be docile? "I caught you," she explained slowly, as if to a child. "You're mine. Permanently. End of discussion."

"Well, you're right about one thing," he said blandly, disgust clear on his face, "it is permanent."

"Perfect, now that we have that cleared up: can you please untie me now?"

"No."

Maka sighed, banging the back of her head repeatedly against the wooden floorboard. She closed her eyes and breathed out through her nose. It was a struggle not to voice the string of curses running through her mind. "What is it going to take for you to untie me?" Maka asked evenly.

Her wisp leaned in closer and bared his teeth, his hand moving to clench around her shoulder. He pressed her further into the floor. Maka's eyes darted to his hand briefly before looking back up to meet his eyes once more. For the first time, unease washed through her.

"You ruined my life," he said. His fingers clenched tighter around her shoulder, pressing her further into the wood. The anger in his words did not match the blank expression on his face. "I know there is absolutely nothing I can do to change that, so I would like to make a few things perfectly clear. I am not your partner. I am not your friend. I refuse to do your bidding, and if you put my life in danger, I will ruin you."

Maka blinked up at him stupidly, still squinting from the blinding sunlight that pushed through the cracks of the shed. Then she scoffed. "Ruin me? Aren't you being a bit melodramatic? Wisps get picked to be partners all the time."

"Against their will," he ground out through his teeth.

"They don't seem all that sad," Maka retorted. "Most are pretty happy, in fact."

"Because you brainwash them," he hissed, showing anger on his face for the first time. "You change them to the point that they forget their true homes. Their true natures. I'm not like them," her wisp warned. "I'm not so easily led astray."

Maka examined him from her place on the ground. Even as a pinch of guilt bit at her heart, her mind whirled with possible ways to earn the wisp's trust. It was too late to get another one; they'd already been bound. Even now she felt their connection strengthening with each passing breath—but she needed him to trust her, it was key in winning the tournament.

They didn't stand a chance without complete and total acceptance of one another.

"What do you want me to do?" she asked, forcing sincerity into her tone.

Surprise showed on his face as he frowned at her, and Maka took a great deal of satisfaction in knowing that she'd caught him off guard. He composed himself quickly, pointing a finger in her face. "No brainwashing."

She fought a smile. "Done."

"And you don't order me around. I decide whether I want to do something or not."

"Fine."

"And no fighting."

She froze. "What do you mean? Of course we'll fight. We're entering the tournament! Why do you think I captured you!?"

"I don't care. I refuse to let you put my life in danger."

Maka growled, jerked away and abruptly swung her body around. Her legs connected with his side and pushed him to the floor. She strained to sit up and struggled with the tight rope around her chest. Her arms were completely stuck—she had no chance of freeing herself. Cursing, Maka's eyes roamed the expanse of the dingy room and her gaze soon fell on a jagged rock. She lunged for it.

Soul tackled her before she could reach it. They struggled together for a moment, but Maka was easily restrained. Her face was pressed into the ground and she grunted in displeasure. "Let me go!" she screamed, fighting him.

"Stop!" Soul chastised. "If you give me what I want then I'll free you and we can get on with our lives—miserable as they may be." The last part was muttered under his breath, but it was his first statement that riled her blood.

Instead of arguing, however, Maka forced herself to take a breath. "Fine. No fighting."

He paused. "You swear?"

"Yes," Maka responded slowly, trying not to let the impatience leak into her tone.

Soul frowned at her for a moment, scrutinising her expression. He must have decided she was telling the truth because he moved closer to untie the rope. "I'll release you, but behave," he said, fiddling with the stiff fibres. She ignored him, glared off into the distance rather than acknowledge his warning.

While he worked, Maka remained very still, hyper-aware of his hands as they untied the rope. It grew slack. She could move. Maka clenched her fists and thrust her knuckles into Soul's temple. He stumbled back, giving her time to rise to her feet and shake out her numb limbs.

"You hit me!" he exclaimed, clutching his head.

Maka rolled her eyes and looked up to chew him out, but froze as she took in his appearance. The night before had been too dark to get a good look at him, and when she'd been tied up, the sun had insured only his silhouette was visible.

Now though, standing as she was above him, his features were clear to her. His hair, now white where she had once thought it merely to be pale, looked softer than the silk Tobias wore even in the grandest of his parades. And his eyes, that spectacular shade of crimson that took her breath, captivated her in ways that had alarm bells ringing almost instantly in her brain.

He was handsome. That could pose a problem.

As taken as she might be with his appearance, Maka was sure not to let her emotions show on her face. "We are fighting in that tournament," she told him fiercely.

Soul glared back at her hatefully. "I refuse."

Maka clenched her fists. "Look," she leveled, "I'm sorry I stole you from your home, really, I am, but I had no choice! Tobias would never have let me have a wisp from his collection. Getting my own was my only option!"

Soul frowned, his interest peaked. "Tobias?" he repeated. "What does he have to do with it?"

"He doesn't like women and wouldn't let me have a wisp to enter the tournament with," Maka explained, sitting back down on the floor. Her eyes were hard when she added, "Even though I'm more qualified than most of the harebrained idiots he allows in."

"Tobias doesn't want you to enter the tournament?" Soul summarized.

Maka nodded, giving Soul an odd look. "That's what I just said."

He was silent a moment, staring down at his hands in thought and gnashing his teeth together, then, "I'll do it." He looked up, brows furrowed. "I'll fight with you in the tournament."

"Really?!" Maka squeaked, then, noticing how high pitched her voice sounded, cleared her throat and said in a deeper tone, "You will?"

He nodded.

Maka smiled, eyes moving to his silver hair before she could help herself. It stood out. Maka's smile faded to a frown. It stood out a lot.

"We're going to have to do something about your hair," she told him thoughtfully. "As soon as anyone sees you they'll know you're a wisp."

"So?"

"So, people will wonder why you're with me and not your partner!"

"But you are my partner," Soul said plainly. "You made sure of that."

"Yes, but since I'm not technically allowed to be, no one can know—at least not yet," Maka explained.

"No one?" he asked, narrowing his eyes. "You said Tobias was the only one against you."

"He is, don't worry." Maka waved him off. "It's a long story—not important. Back to your hair, I was thinking—"

He grabbed her shoulder, spinning her around to face him again. "Why aren't you allowed to be partnered with me?"

Was that hope in his eyes? Bastard. "They technically don't like women to enter the tournaments. So there hasn't ever been one," Maka admitted. Because the frown between his brows was getting darker, she quickly added, "It isn't against the rules, it's just taboo."

"Then why do it?" he asked, and he appeared genuinely curious. "If no one supports you, what's the point?"

Maka smiled thinly. "The money."

"You humans are so fickle," he said absently, but his frown told her that he wasn't fully convinced. Not that it mattered; she just needed him to do his job. What he thought of her wasn't her concern. Not at all.

"Now," she said, hands on her hips. "What will we do about that hair?"

* * *

><p>….<p>

Soul sneezed behind her, but she ignored him, the smile on her face a smug one.

"Was this really the best idea you could think of?"

Maka glanced back. The dirt and dust in his hair had darkened the colour somewhat, though it was still far paler than any normal human would boast. In any case, the disguise was temporary and, so long as no one got a good look at him, they would be fine.

"Why do I have to come anyway?" she heard him complain.

"Because I don't trust you not to run away," Maka answered honestly. "Don't be such a baby, we just need to get some food to tide us over till the tournament starts tomorrow. I also need to check up on my dad."

"Why don't we just stay with him?"

"He doesn't know I'm fighting," Maka answered. She turned and gave him a look that dared him to say something.

He wisely chose to remain silent.

"I should probably see him first," Maka mused aloud. She spotted a nearby bench and pushed Soul towards it. "Stay here, okay? I'll come and get you when I'm done."

It didn't take her long to walk the distance to her house, and in the bright, shadowed light of the morning, her already tiny home looked somehow smaller than it had the day before—squished as it was between the twin overbearing inns that had sparked with life for the coming day. Shaking off the odd feeling in her chest, Maka pushed through the leather doorway.

A stray piece of clothing narrowly missed her face as it slammed into the wall beside her.

"Spirit?"

"Where are they?! Where are they?!" Spirit's voice had a desperate, hoarse quality as he searched through the sparse room, frantically throwing around their meager possessions in between his bouts of incoherent yelling.

"Spirit! What's wrong?" she asked, feeling sick in the pit of her gut.

"They're gone!" he cried, a sheen of sweat coating his face. He paced the length of the room, fingers knotting in his hair. "No, no, no, no… NO!" Spirit yelled, kicking the frame of his bed and cracking the wood. He kicked the mattress next, flipping it over and sending plumes of tiny feathers floating around the room. He panted heavily, chest rising and falling as he stared at the ground with clenched fists.

Maka cleared her throat and, a note of hesitancy in her tone, began, "Look...Dad..." She reached out with a hand to touch his shoulder and he whirled around.

The back of his hand landed against her cheek.

The sound of flesh hitting flesh was loud in the small, dark room.

Spirit's eyes cleared somewhat from their foggy state and he gasped, rearing back away from her as far as he could. "Maka! I didn't know you… I swear I never meant to… I—Fuck." Spirit's back hit the wall and he slid down it, his hands covering his mouth in horror as he watched her. Tears filled his yellow-tinted eyes.

Clutching her cheek, Maka could feel her heart pounding like a drum in her chest—taking her breath with its force. She swallowed thickly and blinked away tears she refused to let fall. Clearing her throat, the sound loud in the eerily quiet space, Maka hoarsely said, "I'm going to go." It came out quieter than she had intended, and her voice broke midway through.

He nodded jerkily without a word, his face hidden from her by his mop of dirty red hair.

Maka looked away, fingers trembling as she pushed aside the leather flap and left the room. Her throat ached with the urge to cry. She fought it, wiping away the brimming tears from her eyes. Her hands shook violently.

A pair of feet blocked her path and Maka looked up to see Soul standing before her, arms crossed over his chest thoughtfully. "Hey," he said, his eyes taking in her image.

Maka dropped her gaze, wiping at her eyes furiously. "Hi," she muttered, sniffling, surprised to see him. Humiliation burned hot in her cheeks, and she felt vulnerable as they stood together. "You didn't stay where I told you to."

His gaze flickered to her cheek briefly before he met her eyes once more. "You ready?"

Maka stared at him in confusion, sniffing dumbly every once in a while. Soul rolled his eyes and reached over to grab her arm, tugging her along with him. "Come on," he chimed once she'd matched his pace. "Let's get something to eat. I'm hungry."

* * *

><p>…..<p>

"What is… this?"

Maka hid her smirk, feeling better despite herself. "Jort."

"Jort?"

Maka ignored Soul and watched the pale-furred female in front of them dip large balloon-like objects into a vat of spitting oil. Upon noticing Maka she looked up and chittered a greeting.

"Two, please," Maka asked politely as Soul came to stand beside her. She knew without looking that his face was pinched in disgust.

"What is this?" he asked her again under his breath, and Maka could have laughed at his panicked tone. She handed the lady two copper coins and watched as she stabbed a pair of sticks into the closest floating balloons. The lady handed both to Maka and offered a wave goodbye.

Maka left the stand and, after they were out of the way of the crowd, handed Soul the jort on a stick. He gave her a repulsed look before hesitantly taking the steaming meat from her grasp with two fingers. He held it away from himself.

"Try it," Maka urged with a grin. "It's good."

Soul made a face. "So what's going on between you and your father?" he asked instead.

Maka took bite of the steaming meat to keep from answering."He's usually an okay dad," she said carefully after a moment, peeling off another piece from the stick and tossing it in her mouth. "That's the first time he's done that."

"There's more." It wasn't a question.

She shot a glance at Soul before sighing and motioning her chin over to a secluded alley. "C'mon, we can sit over there."

They walked over and found some old boxes to sit on, Tobias's face painted on each side. Maka kicked it before slumping down on the wood. As she wiggled to get herself comfortable, Soul took a seat beside her, turning to her expectantly.

"You really want to know this?" He nodded. Maka sighed and kicked her feet back and forth, bouncing her heels against the box. "My dad was a gladiator," she explained, "one of the best, in fact. He and his wisp fought and won in countless tournaments. For a very long time life was great for him..."

Soul seemed to have sensed the unspoken but in her words. "Until?"

She looked at him, took a deep breath, and answered, "Until his wisp died twenty-five years ago. He changed after that, started spending his days gambling, whoring, and drinking. He was broken."

Maka turned to him. "Then one day a baby was left at his doorstep in a basket. Do you know who?"

"Was it you?" Soul muttered blandly, though his eyes held amusement.

Maka grinned. "It was me. The note pinned on the blanket explained that one of the prostitutes had gotten pregnant and it was his job to deal with the baby. So he took me in." She felt a twinge of pride swell in her chest at her next words. "He told me I saved him. I made him turn everything around. He stopped gambling and visiting prostitutes to take care of his new daughter. I'm all he needs. Or," she swallowed, looking down at her jort, "I was."

Soul watched her silently and she offered him a quick shrug. "Recently he's gone back to his old vices. I don't know why, I figure it's just mid-life crisis, maybe?"

Soul's face was a mask. "Maybe."

"He'll turn back, though," Maka assured, licking up the juices that had slid down the stick onto her fingers. "He can be a doofus sometimes, but he's my dad. We don't need anyone else, and once I win the tournament money and become a fully fledged gladiator, we'll be set for life and he won't have to worry anymore. Don't you think?"

He was silent for awhile, before he finally gave a small smile—the first she'd ever seen on his face. For a moment, she was struck dumb. "I think you're stubborn enough that you can have anything you set your mind to."

Maka beamed. She then took a huge bite out of the balloon meat, looking pointedly at his own untouched meal.

Soul looked from her to the jort and back again. Finally he sighed in defeat and took a hesitant bite.

When the juice inside spurted all over his face, Maka doubled over with laughter.

* * *

><p>…<p>

"Okay," Maka said, eyes closed. "I think we have to concentrate on our breathing."

"This is stupid."

Maka felt her eyebrow twitch. "Shut up, Soul. We need to be able to at least merge before the tournament sign-ups tomorrow. Now breathe."

He groaned, and Maka opened her eyes to glare down at him. He was laying on the ground of their shack, looking far too sorry for himself. "I don't want to fight," he muttered. "We're just going to die like thousands before us."

"Well, that's your opinion," Maka snapped. "I happen to be an excellent warrior, so I'll keep you out of trouble. Are you breathing?"

A snort. "I'm sure."

Maka gritted her teeth but did her best to ignore him. Him, and the smell of week old food that surrounded them. "Look," she said finally, when ignoring him didn't work. "If we merge even once I'll let you stop. You can do whatever you want for the rest of the day."

He stilled. "I can go to the forest?"

Her muscles tensed, and she could almost feel his gaze wandering over her face, searching for the faintest clue that might reveal her thoughts. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction. "Fine, okay, yes. We can go to the forest. After we merge."

Soul sat up and scooted towards her. "Give me your hands."

"What?"

Without waiting for her to respond, Soul reached over and grabbed both her hands, locking them tightly within his own. He closed his eyes.

"What are you doing?"

He opened one eye. "I'm merging with you."

"You know how?"

"Of course I do."

"What? How?" This whole time she'd been acting like she knew more than he did when the opposite was true. The last half hour flashed through her mind, of her explaining things to him when he had a betting grasp than she did. She wanted to groan.

"I know a lot of things," was all he said.

Her hands tingled pleasantly where his skin touched hers, and Maka tried to convince herself that it was their bond that was the cause and not her unwelcome attraction to his appearance. Since he wasn't looking at her, Maka took the time to study his face. It was becoming a bad habit of hers, to notice the subtle arches of his brow and the snowy white lashes that brushed against his cheek.

"This would go faster if you would stop gawking at me and concentrate," Soul stated, eyes still shut.

Maka blushed and immediately looked away. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Mhm," Soul hummed, squeezing her fingers. "Close your eyes, please. Concentrate."

With a loud sigh, Maka did as he bid, still fighting the faint heat in her cheeks that refused to dissipate. A moment passed in which nothing happened. Maka fidgeted on the ground, wiggling her nose as the tip began to itch. "Nothing's happening," she grumbled.

"Wait for it."

Maka was just beginning to think that Soul was full of shit, when a buzzing heat soaked into her fingers through their contact. It pushed into her hands, a painful electricity that charged through her and heated her muscles and bones to collect in a warm ball of heat in her chest. The intensity of it took her breath.

Maka opened her eyes, blinking back tears. Soul was gone. Breathing deeply, she looked down at her hands, now several shades darker than her usual complexion. Her hair fell over her face. The strands were silky as they hung over her shoulder. She picked up a lock, rubbed the cool strands between her fingers in shock.

And it was white—her hair was white.

She'd altered to take on Soul's appearance. What else had changed? Maka hesitantly tongued her teeth and, sure enough, they too had changed into the pointy fangs of her wisp. A giggle erupted from her chest as she jumped to her feet. She felt amazing.

The power that coursed through her veins was addicting. She wanted to run and jump and fight. How was it possible to feel so good? Maka's cheeks hurt from her wide grin but she didn't care, she could cry from the feeling of absolute weightlessness.

Satisfied? The voice spoke, warm and pleasant in her mind. It brought a happy feeling to her chest despite the sardonic tone.

"Yes!" She laughed, reaching her arms up high so the tips of her fingers brushed the course wood of the ceiling.

Good.

And just as suddenly as it arrived, the feeling left. The glorious warmth and feeling of being complete left her as Soul spirited away from her body. Black smoke oozed from her every pore, collecting in front of her till Soul materialized at her feet, solid and unyielding.

Maka rubbed her chest, hating the new emptiness she harboured. It was like he'd taken a part of her with him. At the same time, however, she felt a piece of him had remained. "Do you feel that?" Maka asked, still trembling from the loss. "Do you feel me?"

Soul looked at her, and though he never answered her shaky question, he didn't need to. The disquiet was plain on his face.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

The gruff-looking man stared down at her with blood-shot eyes that he held at a weary half mast. His pockmarked cheeks were weathered from age and the coarse whiskers on his chin held speckles of grey. Upon their approach, he appeared to have aged ten years.

"Is this a joke?" he asked slowly, a hopeful note in his ragged tone. His gaze moved past Maka to Soul, who stood just behind her.

"We're here to sign up," Maka repeated, more clearly than the first time. To punctuate her point she held up her wrist and pulled down her sleeve, revealing the gold binding bracelet that shone with an ethereal gleam in the sunlight. When the man still appeared hesitant, Maka took a hard step back onto Soul's foot. An irritated grunt later, Soul raised his own arm.

The man looked from Maka to Soul then back to Maka. He shook his head in a weary way that reminded her of a tired horse at the end of its run. "They ain't gonna like this," he muttered to himself as he tapped his fingers on the metal sign-up desk. Maka could feel the curious stares of those behind them, the line-up stretching as time went on.

"Fine," he grumbled at last, rolling his eyes up to the sky. He handed over two metal passes that were stacked in a pile at his desk. "Don't blame me when you lot get killed."

Maka took them and grabbed Soul's arm, tugging him past the glaring eyes of the other participants. The dirty looks they received dug beneath her skin and tickled at her neck. Hopefully nobody would start something.

"C'mon," Maka muttered to Soul after he'd slowed to return a particularly nasty glare from a man missing a nose. She grabbed his arm and pulled him along when he stubbornly remained in place.

The room they entered into was packed with muscular and sweaty bodies, each trying to intimidate or out do the other. The lights were dim and Maka widened her eyes to try and better see her way.

"This is disgusting," Soul commented from behind her. She felt his words against her neck and suddenly grew intensely aware of how close he stood to her. She swallowed, but otherwise ignored him, her shoulders back as she moved with her partner through the swarm of warriors.

The glares and cruel looks couldn't negate the giddiness that rose up in Maka's chest like a torrent. She could scarcely believe that her dream was finally becoming a reality. All those endless nights spent laying awake and dreaming about her future, all the plans she'd made that had failed—it wasn't for nothing. Maka attempted to smother her stupid grin.

They finally ended up huddled in a small corner. "They'll call us into the arena soon," she told Soul, and she had to lean close in order for him to hear her. He didn't respond, simply stared grim-faced out at the swarm of people. His face was pale. "What's wrong?" Maka asked before she turned her head to try and follow his gaze. She saw nothing but the angry masks of the passing gladiators.

"Nothing," Soul murmured absently. Maka's gaze returned to his face in confusion and the thin press of his lips sent a sudden wave of unease through her. If he was off his game, they would be killed the first round.

"Soul—" she began in warning, but was cut off promptly.

"We'll be calling you all in now," an official looking man said as he pushed through the crowd with his pad of thick paper. He stood in front of a large open doorway with a guard on either side of him. "You will be introduced to the crowd and given your first challenge. Introductions will go by quick so don' go off too far. First up is Gronk and Gus!"

A human and his wisp fist bumped and muscled their way through the crowd, heads held high like being first meant they were somehow better. Maka made a face at them. "Idiots," she muttered. When Soul didn't respond, she looked at him. His face was still screwed up, and sweat beaded at his forehead. "Are you okay?"

"M'fine," Soul bit out curtly. Liar.

The room slowly emptied around them, a pair of warriors disappearing through the doors after each call. Maka could feel the eyes of the other participants, their jeering whispers resounding around her and making her skin prickle with agitation. Not able to handle it any longer, Maka sent a vicious glare to a particularly gruesome looking male on her left, a long scar running through his eye as he watched. He held her gaze a moment before snorting and looking away with a shake of his head.

"You shouldn't be here," he told her, his voice surprisingly soothing to her ears. "This isn't a place for little girls andrejects."

Soul, who had somehow moved close again, stiffened beside her. Maka ignored her partner's peculiar behaviour and clenched her fists. "I have every right to be here, same as you," she spat out, chest puffed.

The man—a wisp, she realized as she took in his eyes and pale hair—turned to her once more. "That's not what I meant," he replied cryptically, in his voice that was strangely deep and soft at the same time. His one eye moved past her to Soul before he strode away languidly.

A swirl of unease festered in her chest and it took Maka a moment to realize that the feeling came from that curious place where she was connected with Soul. She gave him a look and noted the way his eyes followed the odd man, the veins in his neck straining as he did. "Soul?" Maka prompted, looking from the retreating body and back to Soul. "Do you know him?"

"No," he mumbled, and his hooded eyes turned away.

Somehow, she knew he was lying. "Who was he?" Maka asked again.

Soul's breathing picked up. "Let's just go," he said, grabbing her wrist and pulling. "This was a stupid idea."

"What?" Maka asked incredulously. She dug her heels in and yanked back her arm. "What is wrong with you?! We aren't leaving, it should be our turn soon. There aren't many people left!"

He moved to walk away without her and Maka squawked in outrage, lunging for his hand. She grabbed it and pulled back, tucking it to her chest to keep him in place. When he continued to fight, she bit his finger, ignoring the yell of anger.

As they struggled with each other, biting and pinching and glaring, two men came sauntering towards them in the crowd. "Well, well," one said, crossing his arms over his chest. "What 'ave we here?"

Maka, who had Soul's hand pushing her head away, turned to the two men with a hard stare. She grudgingly let go of Soul's fingers and straightened her clothes. With a final glare in the direction of her wisp, Maka turned to the two burly men. "We're here to compete," she said, chin up and shoulders back. "Same as you, same as anyone here."

"'Cept you're a girl, _alone_ among men." He looked her up and down, a leering to his gaze that had feelings of unease rising in Maka's gut. As if he could feel her discomfort, which he probably could, Soul stepped closer to her. His chest brushed her back as he glared over her shoulder at the sleazy fellow.

"Well," Maka began loftily, gaining confidence from the warmth against her back, "I suppose you'll all have something in common."

"Oh yeah?" The man shared a conspiratorial glance with his wisp before facing Maka once more. "And what's tha'?"

She took a determined step forward, fingers clenching. "You'll all know what it means to _lose to a woman_. You pig-headed _oaf_." She faintly heard Soul groan behind her.

"What did you call me?" the man thundered, stepping forward and shoving her with his wide hands.

Maka tumbled to the sticky floor, falling flat on her rear in the dust. He stepped forward and grabbed hold of her shirt, teeth barred as he glowered. Soul merely stood behind her, unmoving despite the hard look in his eyes.

"Giriko and Golem!" The man grunted, showing his pointed teeth in a cruel snarl. He let go of her shirt, allowing Maka to drop with a _thump_ in the sand.

"I'll see you later," he told her as she scrambled to sit up, glaring at him. It was a warning. "If you survive that long."

Without another glance he walked away, the remaining warriors parting for him like a sea of mindless sheep.

Soul gripped her under the arm and pulled her up. When she was standing she jerked it away. "Thanks for the help," she grunted shortly.

"I never wanted to be here," he reminded her with a hiss.

"Whatever."

* * *

><p>….<p>

"That should be all, good work boys."

Maka's head swiveled over to the man at the door. They'd been waiting for hours in the dusty corner, the room slowly growing empty around them. The man that had spoken walked through the doors with his two guards.

"Hey!" Maka jumped to her feet and ran up to them. "HEY!" She reached out and grabbed the official man's thick arm. "You forgot about us! We have passes!"

"You're a woman," the man grunted shortly. "You can't fight."

"The hell we can't!" Maka grabbed Soul's sleeve, who had grudgingly trailed after her, and pulled him up beside her. "We have binding bracelets, we can fight!" She pulled down her shirt sleeve and showed him the golden bracer.

He blinked, turning fully. His thick fingers grasped her arm before she could pull it back. "Where did you get that? These are only given out by Tobias." His eyes landed on her, an accusing glint in his eye. "You a thief?"

Maka tugged her arm back. "No," she said, teeth gnashing. "They were my father's. Spirit Albarn."

The light in his eye changed. "Albarn? That washout?" A loud guffaw rose from the man. "Even his own daughter looks down on him, what a loser."

Maka had to bite her lip to keep the retort in, and she breathed through her nose carefully. Behind her, Soul shifted on his feet.

"You can fight, but if you die, it's your own fault."

"That's fine," she grated.

"_That's fine_," Soul mimicked behind her.

He handed Maka a small sheet of paper with her and Soul's names on it. "You're in luck, we had an odd number so we were going to advance the last group without a fight. Turns out we don't have to. Hand this to the announcer."

"Got it." She took the slip. "C'mon Soul."

They walked through the door and into the hallway. It was dark, and the stone walls reached up high to the ceiling. Standing in one corner stood a short official. He was preening his bright purple feathers with his oblong beak when Maka marched forward purposefully and handed the sheet to him.

With a harried squawk he jumped into action and waddled through the large draping doors to whisper to someone who Maka could only assume was the announcer. "Oh, excuse me." The words came from beyond the curtain and echoed as it reached across the stadium. "It appears we have one more pair after all! Soul and… Maka."

The bird-man reappeared, gave them a short nod, and settled back down in his spot.

Maka took a deep breath in attempt to ease the nauseous feeling in her belly and the loud drumming of her heart. This was it, where she would finally prove to herself, her father, and the rest of the world that she was worth more than the lot she'd been handed in life. She turned to give Soul a wide grin, to which he responded with an odd look, before pushing back the curtain and striding through.

The sun was near blinding as they joined their opponents in the ring, the dust moving off the ground with every step they took. The ring was slotted off in four sections, with six other gladiators already busy fighting.

The two men _they_ were meant to fight already stood waiting, one considerably leaner than the other—thin and waif-like where his partner was sturdy and thick. Despite their differences in stature, they both shared the same smug expression on their shit eating faces.

Maka and Soul finally made it to the centre and a bell tolled clear and loud from high up on the wall. "Next we have Maka and Soul facing Thomas and his wisp, Karkov!" The voice was amplified by a special magic, allowing it to resonate easily throughout the audience. "When the bell rings twice, you are allowed to enter your gladiator forms!"

"Hold my hand," Maka whispered out of the corner of her mouth, extending her palm towards Soul. Her gaze was focused on those opposite them, but she gave Soul a quick glance when her hand remained untouched.

He was looking at her in disgust.

Maka felt her cheeks heat and she glared at him. "What?" she sputtered shrilly.

"I don't want to hold your hand." He said it like she'd asked him to clean her dirty undergarments.

Did he have to show off his stubborn side _now_ of all times? Maka's eyes shifted to the crowd when she heard curious murmurs. Her eyes found _her_ _partner's_ again. "It's to help us bind. You did it last time," she said through her teeth. "I don't want to hold your hand either."

"I don't need to hold your hand," Soul scoffed. "That was just for the first time—I could do it in my sleep."

Though disgruntled, Maka wouldn't let him ruin this for her. Instead of blowing up in his face like she'd like to, Maka simply nodded hesitantly and turned back around to face their opponents.

The bell tolled once. Twice.

She breathed out. _Showtime_.

The team opposite them were almost immediately consumed by a blue light, so bright that Maka had to avert her eyes. Her vision cleared moments later and she looked up to see a single entity where there once stood two.

The gladiator was lean yet his limbs were heavily corded with powerful muscles, a perfect combination of its partners. He clenched his fists tightly and when he opened them, blue magic radiated from his palms. The blue elongated, stretching around him into the form of a thin whip. The gladiator wound his arm back and snapped the weapon against the ground, leaving scorch marks where it connected with the earth. He grinned at them.

While the image was mesmerizing, Maka could only focus on the fact that Soul wasn't binding with her.

"Soul," Maka muttered, eyes on the approaching gladiator. She took a shaky step back. "Anytime now."

"I'm working on it." He said it through gritted teeth and Maka turned to see his face red with strain. The veins on his neck stood out and he had begun to shake with the force of his efforts.

Her gaze shot back to the gladiator, who had began to snap the whip in front of him in a butterfly twist as he approached, rousing the crowd into eager cheers. "Work faster!"

The gladiator wrenched back his arm in preparation to strike and the crackling blue whip shot down towards them. Maka lunged for Soul, her arms wrapped around his waist as she tackled him to the ground just before the sizzling weapon made contact with the spot where Soul had been.

She pushed off his chest and grabbed his arm quickly to pull him up. He stumbled dizzily against her. "I thought you said you had this!" Maka yelled at him.

Soul rubbed his head wearily. "I think someone's blocking my magic."

"What!?"

Soul's eyes opened to roam around the stands and he gave a ragged sigh. "M'fine, I think I almost had it before you stopped me."

"Stopped you?" Maka repeated shrilly, pulling him away from yet another attack. "I saved your life!" His sleeve still gripped tightly in her hand, she pulled him towards one of the rickety barriers that stood scattered throughout the ring.

The bastard was toying with them, his attacks slow and careful as they ran. "Get outta the ring!" he said, voice loud and booming. "You lot don't belong here! You can't even bind!" The crowd roared with laughter.

Soul glared, baring his teeth at the gladiator, and Maka had to hold him back when he took a threatening step forward. He fought against her and she shoved him behind the makeshift shield before crouching down next to him. "Soul, just focus on your magic!" she hissed, pushing his back against the creaking wood when he moved to stand. "If you fail, _we die_!"

His glaring red eyes met hers, examining her face for a moment before snarling and tugging his arm away. "Fine. Stop distracting me—this is harder than it looks." He closed his eyes.

"I told you we should have practiced more!" Maka chastised, darting her gaze over the barrier to the fierce looking gladiator with his magically charged whip.

"Bite me," Soul muttered through his teeth, the sweat draining down his face. He took a deep, steadying breath and blew out through his mouth. When Maka glanced back at their opponent, she was relieved to see that he had taken a moment to flex his muscles for the crowd.

While she watched, a curious sensation touched her skin—an inky, slimy sort of sensation that filled the pits of her belly with dread.

When she turned, hesitantly, towards it, all thoughts of the tingling in her skin left as she saw magic, the colour of a starless night sky, grow from the tips of Soul's fingers. She was too consumed with her staggering relief to ponder why it came out black when she knew magic was always blue. It grew till it consumed his whole hand and sparked with life and promise. "You did it," she gasped, beaming.

Soul opened his eyes and looked down at his hands in relief. "Yeah..." he breathed.

Maka's only warning was the mad cackling in her ear before the blue whip coiled around her neck and pulled her from their hiding spot. She made a desperate grab for Soul but she was gone before her fingers could even brush the fabric on his shoulder.

"_Maka!_"

She hit the ground hard and with a sharp cry of pain. The smell of scorched skin permeated the air as she was dragged through the dirt, her hands trying in vain to detach the burning blue whip tightening around her neck. It was all she could do to withhold the urge to cry out at the excruciating pain.

"This ain't no place fer little girls," the gladiator told her, his words a combination of both the man and the wisp. Maka strained to look up at him, gritting her teeth through the pain. "I'll make your death quick."

Black plumes of twisting magic shot towards her, consuming her entire body—tearing her from the lethal hold of the whip. Maka coughed, sucking in breaths as the black coated her skin. When she looked up, the gladiator was staring back at her in bewilderment.

The magic entered her then, rippling through her skin like a tidal wave. It seeped in through her nose, mouth and eyes and she could feel it slowly yet surely _consume_ her. The magic filled her, making her feel whole and _alive_.

Like the day before, she felt high on the power and a manic laugh burst forth from her lips that she couldn't have suppressed even if she wanted to. Maka stood easily, her muscles bulging with new strength and energy. Her hair, which she knew was a pure white, whipped around her face as she stood. Slowly, _wickedly_, a grin formed on her lips—an expression she'd never shown before but imagined might suit Soul's pretty well—that showed off the sharpened teeth that now filled her mouth.

Her eyes moved to her tanned palms as she instinctively opened them in front of her. Black magic grew from her hands and lengthened outwards. She clasped her hands around the plumes and within them she soon held two solidified blades—sickle scythes that curved menacingly—so black they consumed the light around them. Maka waved them in front of her, testing their weight.

Perfect.

She looked up, high off the power coursing through her veins. "You ready?" she asked with a wide grin, her voice more masculine than she recognized.

The gladiator growled, snapping his whip around him once before sending it towards her. Maka dodged it with a laugh and a twirl, giddy with power. _Maka_, the aggravated voice came from within her head, _focus!_

Since it was sound advice, Maka forced herself to take a calming breath. This wasn't her. It was the magic. But it _felt so good_. She bit her lip and was surprised when a sharp pain was the result. She'd forgotten about the teeth.

Before Maka could ponder her image further, the gladiator ran towards her, picking up speed as he went. She lunged to the side and rolled onto her feet, swords raised defensively.

His fist came bounding down against her swords, and Maka braced beneath the added weight. She sliced downward but the leather of his gloves took most of the damage. His foot swung around and slammed into her ribs before she could shield.

The crowd erupted in cheers as Maka was thrown across the dusty arena, kicking up a plume as she skidded. _He's strong_, she thought wearily to herself.

_Well what did you expect? _the sardonic voice in her head replied, and Maka decided to stop thinking because Soul was annoying. She pushed off the ground, her new proportions messing up her basic motor skills.

The gladiator charged. Maka sidestepped him and attacked, the sword lessons her father gave her in the back of her mind as the weapons disappeared with the speed and force of each blow.

As she fought, she allowed the frustrations and feelings of inadequacy she had struggled against to add power to her attacks. Her father's baggage piled on her shoulders, condemning her in the eyes of the city before she could even walk. The feelings wrought by those stares, the cruel jibes that her father ignored and yet punctured her. The yearning to be enough, and yet having to compete with the ghost of her father's wisp—his self proclaimed _everything._

A well placed thrust caught the gladiator in the shoulder and he reared back with a cry of outrage.

Her opponent threw a fist at her and, though she blocked it with her free blade, the force of the blow ensured that she went down hard. The wind left her lungs in a _whoosh,_ and for several moments, she struggled to breathe, the man above her busy wrenching her blade from his flesh. She tried to lift herself, but his foot landed heavily on her stomach.

"Bitch," he spat, lifting his foot to slam his heel into her stomach. Maka cried out and brought her blades up but they were suddenly pushed back to the ground by some invisible force. Confused, Maka tried once more to lift her arms but they remained planted at her sides—held down by a pressure she couldn't see.

A foot connected with her face and she spat out a razor sharp tooth. He kicked her again and again, unrelenting and unforgiving in his assault. Maka struggled against her unseen bonds, but it was becoming a struggle simply to focus—the black dots around her vision flashing like she'd stared too long in the sun. Her eyes closed and the blows finally stopped. The gladiator left her and roared out to the crowd in triumph.

_Maka!_ That voice again. Soul. _Maka, get up!_

Maka tried to lift her arms; they trembled with strain, lifting just an inch before she collapsed back to the ground. She couldn't move, why couldn't she move?

_Soul, something is wrong_, Maka murmured sluggishly in her mind, heart loud in her ears. _I can't move my body. And... I'm tired._

Soul was quiet a moment, then, _Someone has you under a spell. _He sounded angry.

_Wha...?_

Soul let out a frustrated sound in her mind. _Fuck this,_ he said. _I'm taking over._

Before Maka could speculate what he meant by that, a strange sensation came over her—the pain fading from her mind as she drifted away.

Magic formed in her hands and they clenched, flexing her fingers. After a moment her left arm lifted, followed soon by her right.

Which was odd because she wasn't moving them.

"Whoever hit us with that spell meant business," she heard herself say. "This is hard to break out of."

_You're controlling my body!? _Maka cried, incredulous. She tried to regain control, but a wall was blocking her.

Soul pushed off from the ground and shook out her body, cracking her neck left then right. He raised her scythes, crossing them in front of her body in preparation. Then Soul paused.

"You're so tiny," he muttered, examining her arms and fingers. He sounded genuinely intrigued. "You have little baby hands."

_I do not!_

Soul snorted, ignoring her. "Your feet are tiny too." He wiggled her toes in her boot. "How do you even walk?"

_He's going to notice us soon! _Maka warned, feeling strange watching someone else operate her body. It was... unsettling to say the least. As if he'd heard her, the gladiator swung his great head towards them, snarling in distaste when he saw her standing.

"You have nice legs, too," Soul said, his words absent. "I mean the rest is a bit flat but—"

_Soul!_

"Right, sorry." Soul shook his head. He looked up at the gladiator who was giving them an odd look. "Hey cocksucker! I have somethin' for ya!" Soul lifted a hand, blade still gripped in his palms, and lifted his middle finger.

_Where did you even learn that?! _Maka shrieked. He ignored her.

With a growl, the gladiator charged, head down, snapping his blue whip around him in heavy lashes. Soul dodged the first blow, but ended up tripping over Maka's feet in the process.

"You're too light!" he complained when he righted himself awkwardly. He stumbled away from the second attack, using the ends of the blades to balance himself.

Finally, Soul seemed to figure out how to work Maka's body, and began to go on the offensive, slashing with powerful strikes. He kicked the warrior in the crotch and, pushing more magic into the blade, cleanly sliced the left arm from their wide open opponent. The gladiator cried out, falling to his knees. His form faltered, his face twisting and contorting until finally the two men separated in a gasping heap. Only the large one remained without his arm.

"Thomas and Karkov have broken formation! Soul and Maka win the fight!"

Black light shimmered around them and Soul separated from Maka. The loss was sudden and significant, and Soul had to catch her under her arms when her knees collapsed. "You okay?" he asked, looking down at her.

Maka smiled wearily, tilting her head back till she could see him. "Yeah." They'd won. Somehow they'd won. The giddiness was back, mixed with the weakness of relief.

"Now you shall decide the fate of the losers!"

Soul and Maka looked up. The crowd had erupted in deafening chants, all of which, Maka noticed with a sinking stomach, voted for death. Soul helped Maka stand, gripping her under the waist when her legs wobbled.

The losers from their battle, along with those from the other three sections joined in a wary circle, their eyes watching the crowd with fear.

"Are they really going to kill them?" Maka whispered under her breath, her joy momentarily forgotten. "I didn't know they actually do this."

"Haven't you ever been to a tournament?"

Maka shook her head. "Too expensive."

The announcer's voice rang clear around the colosseum once more. "The people have spoken! DEATH!"

Maka gripped the fabric on Soul's far shoulder where her hand rested. A gate opened on the opposite side of the ring, and eight silver arrows crept slowly from the black depths, hovering in place in preparation for attack. Thomas and Karkov scrambled up, the wisp helping his warrior stand. They ran, and that's when the arrows struck, buzzing through the air and through their skull.

Their bodies hit the ground with a thud. Moments later, six others followed

A man in clean robes walked to them, a pleasant expression on his face. Maka looked to him with wide eyes, still frozen from what she'd seen. "Greetings, you have qualified for the next round of the tournament. If you follow me, I will show you to your rooms. Right this way, please."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

The corridor they walked down was dark, and Maka leaned against Soul as they tripped along the stone floor—her worn body still unused to the effects of the magic that she had imposed upon it. In front of them, the official walked with eerily calm steps. The noise from outside—the cheering and screams of the gladiators still fighting—was muted by the thick walls.

"How far are the rooms?" Maka ventured to ask. She felt unnerved—a paradoxical and sudden change from her earlier thrill—and the feeling must've transferred to Soul because he stiffened against her. The only visible evidence of this was the slight falter in his pace before it was quickly regulated.

"Almost there." The soft voice was still carefully pleasant.

Soul and Maka shared a glance. Maka cleared her throat. "So like, around the corner, or—?"

A strong force wrapped around them then, invisible, like a giant hand holding them pressed together. A door swung open on their left and they were catapulted into the room, landing in a messy heap as their bonds disintegrated around them. Maka groaned. She'd fallen on her bruised ribs.

"Well, well. What have we here?"

Tobias.

The knowledge he was present gave Maka the strength to push herself up off the ground. He was sitting on a large pedestal—more throne than chair—and was tapping his thick, ring-adorned fingers against the armrest in an absent rhythm. As usual, two guards flanked his sides, complete with the latest intergalactic arms. The smile Tobias gave them was strained.

"I thought I told you quite clearly that you were forbidden to enter."

Maka frowned. "You never said I was forbidden to enter the tour—"

"Hold your tongue, bitch!" Tobias roared, his calm facade breaking for the first time. Maka's mouth fell open and she blinked stupidly. She had only ever seen him confident and amused, and the rawness of this new anger was unnerving. "I couldn't care less if some thin waif of a girl wants to be squashed in my ring." He licked the spittle from his lips and set his gaze on Soul. "No, I'm talking to _you_. _Soul Eater._"

What? Maka turned to Soul in confusion and was surprised to see the intense hatred in his eyes as he stared up at Tobias. His fingers clenched tightly in a trembling fist, and the veins of his neck were visible with strain.

"You put the spell on us in the ring," Soul accused.

Tobias didn't deny it. "You were told never again to enter this city after that last stunt you pulled. You nearly cost the lives of my most expensive gladiators."

"It was nothing less than you deserve," was the hissed reply.

What was going on?

"And you repay my mercy by disobeying my orders," Tobias spat. "I should have your head." He examined Soul thoughtfully as he sat back in his chair, the blood-red clothes he wore draped over him. "I see the isolation has taken its toll—the increase in black magic is evidence enough of this." His tone became malicious. "Does it have any effects on your partner, I wonder?"

Maka felt her heart beat fast as her eyes moved between Tobias and Soul. Confusion and worry were quickly taking control of her emotions and she had to fight the rising panic that threatened to choke her. "Soul?" She tugged his sleeve gently, her words wary. "What's going on?" He ignored her.

Tobias leaned forward in his seat again. "You said you'd never bind with a warrior. Never come to fight."

"I didn't bind with a warrior," Soul replied scathingly. He slapped his hand over Maka's mouth when she opened it to protest. "I'm bound to _her_. You've said yourself women can't be warriors."

Tobias growled, slamming his fist against his chair. Spit sprayed from his lips as he spoke, words quick and short in their harried delivery. "Do not mock me! You want to participate? Fine. I will watch you both die and the planet will be better for it."

The door they'd entered through flew open, the wood slamming against the wall. Soul grabbed Maka's arm and pulled her roughly from the room whilst glaring at Tobias like he was the devil.

The door closed once they'd left the room and disappeared in a swirl of blue magic. The official stood waiting in the middle of the hall, hands folded patiently, right where they'd left him. "Follow me," he told them.

Though Maka wanted to question Soul, she decided to still her tongue. The strange man led them through the winding halls till finally they arrived in front of a small door. "You will be staying here, if you—"

"Got it," Soul interrupted shortly, pushing into the room and pulling Maka with him.

The official poked his head in with a chunky device. "The schedule will be posted on these tablets—" Soul tore the thick, electronic tablet from his hand and slammed the door in his face.

For a moment they were both quiet, Soul's hand still flat against the wood as he looked down at his feet.

Maka crossed her arms. "What was that all about?"

Soul released a weary sigh, walked further into the small room, and sat down on one of the two lumpy mattresses. As he seemed to be debating how to begin, Maka took the time to examine their assigned quarters. It was a tiny room, the only furniture aside from the pair of beds was a small side table that held a single unlit candle. Still, it was sturdy and the roof wouldn't leak.

"About ten years ago some of the wisps and I went into the city to confront Tobias," he told her. "We threatened him that we would go to war if he didn't stop taking our kind for use in his _tournaments_."

"How? You were a wisp?"

"Remember how I talked to you in the forests? We can take any form we choose," he explained, then looked up at her with a dead look in his eye. "Once we are bound, we are forever imprisoned in our _partner's_ shape."

So that's how Tobias had recognized Soul. She swallowed back the guilt. "What did he do?"

His clenched fingers belied his otherwise calm tone as he responded simply, "He killed them all."

His words were like a punch to her heart, and she was no longer sure if the emotion was his or her own. Maka moved to sit down next to him, the bed sinking beneath her weight so that her shoulder brushed against his. She could feel the hurt through their bond, though his face showed no expression. "And what did you do?" Maka asked softly.

"I burned the colosseum," he sighed, "or tried to."

"And then?"

"He ran me out of the city." Soul shrugged, falling back on the bed. He stared up at the ceiling. "It was a small rebellion, but it left its mark. Not that it stopped him. Wisps are still being stolen. Every now and then I'll come back, try and threaten him again, but it never works. Not permanently, at least."

"And the black magic?" she prodded, trying and failing to convince herself that the hard note in his voice wasn't directed at her. "What was that about?"

Soul was hesitant as he responded. "I have been… separated from my family for quite some time. This," his hands waved in the air, a black ball of magic emitting from his palm, "is the result."

"Why were you separated?"

Soul just shrugged again, closing off from her. Maka sensed that there was more to the story but decided to leave it. "So what are we going to do?" she asked instead.

He turned to look at her, his eyes moving across her features thoughtfully. "I don't think we should stay here. I'd rather not be where he has such easy access to us. He's probably listening now."

Maka stared down at his frosted white hair, glowing in the fading light of day. She was still sitting on the edge of his bed, the warmth from his back emitting against her skin. Maka pushed off the bed before she could get too comfortable. Soul grunted when the bed creaked, and Maka rolled her eyes. "Well, come on then. Let's leave before it gets too dark."

"Really?" He seemed surprised.

"Yeah, who needs a bed?" Maka muttered.

The warm light of the waning sun shone clear through the small window beside her. The process had taken all day. All that waiting for a fight that had taken so little time. A hand rose to touch her still tender cheek, but only pride flowed as a result of the tiny twinge of pain. She would win. She would finally show Tobias that he couldn't mess with the Albarns—and maybe then her dad would stop fading away before her eyes.

With this, she would prove he didn't need his partner to live a full life. With this, she would prove that she was enough for him.

* * *

><p>...<p>

As Maka and Soul slipped through the streets towards her house, she felt the curious and incredulous eyes of the people passing by—turning their heads in a double take to catch a second glimpse of her. Maka's shoulders pulled back of their own accord and she could feel herself walk more proudly among the masses.

The boost of confidence came just in time, for as she turned the next bend, her familiar looking shack came into view—housing within it her no doubt still grieving father. Maka blinked when someone shoved into her, only noticing then that her footsteps had at some point faltered till she stood at a complete standstill in the crowded street—forcing people to walking around her as she stared dumbly at her house. "Stay here," Maka said to Soul, then, taking a deep and shaky breath, she urged herself forward once more.

"Spirit?" Maka asked hesitantly as she pushed back the leather flap and entered the shack. She had to squint in the dim light, so different from the bright street she'd just left. "Dad, are you—?"

"Is it true?" Maka looked to her father, sitting in the middle of his ruined mattress. His hands were neatly clasped together, elbows resting against his knees as he sat hunched forward in quiet contemplation.

Maka took a deep breath, pushing back her shoulders. She knew what he meant. "It's true."

His eyes flickered to the now uncovered binding bracer attached to her wrist and his expression grew pained, as though it was hard for him to even look at it. As though he could no longer bear the sight. After a moment his eyes rose to meet her own. "Why would you want this?" he asked in a whisper, watching her face in honest confusion. "Can't you see what it's done to me?"

"But I can handle it," Maka responded, "and I can win us money. Dad, we'll be rich!"

Spirit started to speak but he halted himself, shaking his head. Finally he asked her, "Why didn't you tell me this was something you wanted? I had no idea you felt this way."

"I knew you'd be against it."

"Of course I'm against it!" Spirit thundered, breaking his steady calm for the first time. "I thought you were responsible, Maka! Even if the risk to your life wasn't an issue, you have no idea the bond you've made. A bond such as this will change you, Maka. This person isn't just your partner, they've become part of you. You aren't _whole_ without them."

"No, we aren't like that!" Maka insisted.

Spirit regarded her determined stance calmly, then his eyes flickered to the doorway. A wry smirk grew on his face and he raised an eyebrow at Maka. "So I assume that isn't your partner eavesdropping outside our doorway?"

Maka turned her head just as Soul walked in. He wasn't looking at her, his hard eyes instead focused solely on her father.

"It's already beginning," Spirit mused aloud, his gaze moving back and forth between them in acute scrutiny. "You're already feeling protective of each other."

"No, we aren't."

Spirit raised an eyebrow. "No? Then why is he glaring at me like I killed his mother? And why are you standing in front of him like that? I'm not going to hurt him."

Maka shuffled on her feet, head turning quickly to meet Soul's eyes, but she didn't move. Spirit's eyes softened, and he sighed, running a hand through his hair. Maka was suddenly struck with how old Spirit looked, how weary.

She took a step towards him; for some reason she felt guilty. She fought the feeling, fists shaking as she stared at her father. "Da—"

"You can't stay here," he cut in, watching her with an almost pitying expression. "You're my daughter, but I can't condone this." He looked to Soul, to the bracelet around his wrist. "Not after what I've done, not after what you know I've been through."

It was suddenly too much for her. His pitying look, the betrayal in his eyes, the defeated stance.

"Why can't I be enough for you?" she spat, shoulders heaving with the force of her upset. "_Why _am I _never _enough?"

His sad gaze locked on Maka; then he looked away. "I'm sorry."

Maka opened her mouth, but the words stuck in her throat, the sight of her world-weary father a heavy one. She felt Soul take her arm.

"Come on," he murmured gently to her. Maka watched as Spirit took in the display, saw his face crumble and his eyes close. As though he couldn't bear the sight.

She let Soul pull her away.

* * *

><p>…...<p>

"Where are we going now?" Soul asked, eyeing her carefully. Maka looked away from him, feeling stiff in her skin. She rubbed her arm to try and get rid of the feeling.

"I have a friend, he works in construction and has an apartment," she told him. "We can probably stay with him." Soul just nodded, his eyes still watching her face thoughtfully. Maka sighed. "C'mon, he should be at the bar now."

"Which one?"

Maka turned to him, blinking in confusion. "What do you mean?"

Soul looked around them. "These are all bars, they have drink menus on the walls."

"How do you know they're drink menus?" Maka asked, her eyes suddenly hard as she turned to fully face her wisp. "You can read?"

Soul nodded. "Of course."

"What do you mean of course!? Only rich people can read!"

He tilted his head at her. "Can't you?"

She shifted, looking everywhere but at his face. After a moment passed she told him, the words like knives as they left her mouth. "No. I've tried to learn... but the words never stay in place." Her ears burned as she told him. "My dad knows, he tried to teach me but it never worked."

"Oh."

Maka narrowed her eyes, head whipping to face his. She studied his expression, trying to find any trace of pity or disgust. If she did, it would hurt more than she cared to admit. Maka braced herself unconsciously.

When she found none, the knot in her chest eased somewhat.

* * *

><p>…..<p>

The bar was musty, a thick atmosphere that watered her eyes and made her nose tickle. The lights glowed dimly through the smoke as the voices of loud patrons bounced off the walls and reverberated around them. Soul sneezed behind her. "What is this place?" he asked, the disgust clear in his voice.

"It's a _bar_, we've been through this," Maka muttered, not looking back at him. "Have you not _read_ about them in your extensive book collection?"

"I've never been in one," he said. A moment passed before he added, as if he couldn't help himself, "Are you still bitter about the fact that I can read?"

Maka scoffed. "No." Yes. "I don't care about you enough to be bitter. Now be quiet, I have to find my friend."

"If your friend stays in these kinds of places, I'm not sure he's someone we should be looking for to help us in the first place," Soul cautioned.

The worst part was that he was exactly right; Blackstar was possibly the worst person she could go to for help. He was greedy and conniving and if paid enough money he would spread their secrets like wildfire without a second thought. However, despite what she said, Maka was still feeling a twinge of jealousy towards Soul and refused to divulge this information. Besides, Blackstar was, unfortunately, their only option.

"It'll be fine," she said, hoping it was the truth.

Together they walked through the bar, slipping past the many bodies—dodging the spiked tentacles of a particularly grumpy looking gentleman. Maka felt Soul clasp her hand from behind her and she had to bite her tongue to keep from snapping at him, knowing he only did it to keep them from becoming separated in the swarm.

"I hate alcohol," she grumbled to him, eyeing one of the many patrons slumped on the floor. "It makes fools out of people."

When they finally reached the main bar, the bartender nodded at them as he wiped a glass. His large metal arm made soft buzzing noises as he worked. "Maka! Your father owes me three gold," he said matter-of-factly. He had only one eye, bulging out from the centre of his red face, and it stared down at Maka intensely.

"Johnny, listen we need to find—" Maka paused as his previous words registered. "_Three_? What do you mean three? You said he only owed you two last time!" Soul nudged her roughly in the back with his elbow and she shook her head. "Nevermind, we need to find Blackstar. He isn't in any of his usual spots."

Johnny snorted, his great belly jiggling in his amusement. "What? You mean loverboy? Of course he isn't in any of his usual squats."

"What do you mean?"

"Wha'? You didn't hear? The boy got himself locked up. He's in jail!"

"_Jail?_" Maka repeated, glancing back at Soul wordlessly before she could stop herself. Her eyes flew back to Johnny. "What do you mean jail?"

* * *

><p>…..<p>

Blackstar was slumped back in his seat, his eyes sparkling with mirth despite his current situation. His arms were crossed and his head was leaning back against the metal wall as he gazed up at Maka.

"You flashed Tobias's daughter?!" she shrieked, fingers clenched around the bars of her 'friends' cell. "_How could you?!_"

Blackstar shrugged, not looking at all remorseful as he grinned back at her. "It's not like I thought you'd actually get one." He eyed Soul appraisingly, then turned to smirk at Maka. "I suppose congratulations are in order."

Maka groaned, banging her head into the bars. "You are such an idiot. Why would you _flash_ someone?! That is disgusting and _wrong_! What did you think you'd gain from it? I thought you liked Tsubaki!"

"I do! Now she knows what's available. I was advertising, Maka. Besides," his face softened into a wistful smile, "she's cute when she blushes."

Maka rolled her eyes, but forced herself to momentarily smother her ire. "How much is your bail?" she asked through her teeth. It was almost cute how much he liked Tsubaki. Almost. It would, of course, help if he showed his affection in less scarring ways. Hopefully the poor girl hadn't been completely traumatized.

"Either I stay two weeks, or 100 gold," Blackstar chimed, only looking slightly bothered as he relayed the fact. He was obviously still thinking about his crush, if the stupid look on his face was any indication.

"_100 gold?_" Maka repeated. "That's insane!"

Blackstar shrugged. "Tobias," he said in answer.

Maka ran her hands through her hair with a growl then turned to Soul. "We're on our own," she muttered under her breath, looking at her feet as she thought furiously of a plan.

"You done?" They looked up at the grumpy guard, his thick fur unable to hide the annoyed expression on his face. "'Cause visiting hours are nearly over."

Maka frowned. "No, they aren't. It isn't even midday."

He didn't reply, only leveled her with a dry look. Maka snarled and turned to Blackstar. "Can we crash at your place for a bit?"

Blackstar shrugged. "Knock yourself out—you know where to find the key. Not like I'm going to be using it."

"Thanks." Maka grabbed Soul's arm. "C'mon, let's go."

They pushed through the doors of the jail out into the bright lights of the bustling city. "Blackstar's place isn't much," Maka told Soul as they moved through the crowd, "but I think he'll have food at least."

"Why can't we just stay in the forest?" Soul asked calmly, frowning at a group of girls who were fluttering their eyelashes at him. Maka ignored them.

"Because we'll be killed by trolls."

He didn't deny it. "Why did it matter if your friend showed himself to that girl?" Soul asked. "Wasn't he only trying to impress her?"

Maka rolled her eyes. "It's generally frowned upon to show your goods to the general public. No matter his intentions."

"Why?" Soul asked, eyes examining the wares as they entered into the city bazaar.

Maka paused at that, turning to give him a stern look. "Because it's scarring and horrible and _wrong_—don't touch that, it's poison—" Soul jerked his fingers back from the spiky fruit his hand was moving towards "—and if he had any brains he would know that."

The animals around them shrieked angrily from their cages, the ones with wings flapping so hard that colourful feathers dislodged and blew off into the wind. Maka could tell Soul was watching them in disapproval, and when he jerked towards a cage to release one, she quickly grabbed his arm and pulled him back next to her. "Don't touch," she chastised. "We can't afford them."

Soul glared down at her.

Maka ignored him and continued pulling Soul through the marketplace, full of merchants selling trinkets, gadgets, baubles, and guns of all sizes. At first he appeared grumpy, but as they walked by the colourful stands and the enthusiastic entertainers, she could _feel _him begin to loosen up. One street performer in particular, a foreign woman whose long horns held bedazzled jewels and who played a painted gold harp, caught his attention.

At first she thought he was looking at her large chest, but when she went to snarl at him, she was surprised to find his eyes intent upon the musical instrument.

"You like music?" she asked curiously, eyes moving from the harp back to her partner.

"Music plays constantly in the forest," Soul answered, a curious expression on his face as he watched—practically entranced. "The creatures do it naturally. I never knew those outside the forest produced it as well."

Maka watched him in contemplation. "I thought you'd been to the city before, shouldn't you know about all this?"

He shook his head, still captivated. "No, I only ever came at night."

After a moment more, Maka nudged him forward. "Come on, we shouldn't stay out too long. I don't want any of Tobias' goons to recognize me."

* * *

><p>….<p>

Blackstar's apartment was gross, and as soon as they pushed through the door, they were hit with the unmistakable smell of sweat and unwashed bodies. With a sound of disgust, Maka quickly covered her nose and stepped into the apartment, careful not to tread on any of the unidentifiable objects that littered the floor. Or what she assumed to be the floor. They couldn't actually see it.

"You expect me to stay here?" Soul hissed. "I absolutely refuse. How does he live in this filth?"

"Be happy you have any place to stay at all," Maka shot back, kicking litter off the bench in the corner. "Some of us haven't always been so fortunate."

She ignored his pointed look and sifted through the pile of old food. "Hungry?"

Soul made a face at the small pile of rotten fruit. "I'd rather not. I already ate that balloon meat."

"You're human now," Maka reminded. "You have to eat regularly."

"And whose fault is that?" Soul reminded snidely, though he did kneel down beside her to examine the pile. He picked up a piece of dried meat.

"How about some beans?" Maka asked, as though he hadn't spoken. She took his grunt as agreement and collected the beans from a bucket, pouring them into a pot on the small stove in the Blackstar's makeshift kitchen. She flicked on the switch and, after a few hitching starts, the fire on the stove burned bright. The pot was soon boiling.

"That smells revolting," Soul told her helpfully, peering over her shoulder.

Maka shifted as his warm breath brushed against her neck, but decided to ignore his proximity. Or at least try to. She dropped in a few unidentifiable food products and the rotten apple just for the hell of it.

The contents of the pot were soon reduced to a bubbling mess, and so Maka flicked off the stove and found two bowls from the clutter around them (she gave Soul the one that had been under Blackstar's shorts). After she'd scooped out Soul's portion, she handed him the bowl along with a wooden spoon.

She watched with a great deal of amusement as he gingerly touched his tongue to the edge of the spoon. He made a face at her. "It tastes worse than it smells. How is that even possible?"

Maka snorted. "Just eat it. The more you think about it the worse it will taste." She turned back to pour her own bowl when she heard a loud _snap. _Maka's head whirled around to see Soul holding up his spoon, one half broken in his hands. Wooden splinters stuck out from his teeth.

He just stared back, stunned. With a quick laugh, Maka took the spoon from his fingers and examined it. "Yeah, we're going to have to work on that."

* * *

><p>….<p>

That night, Maka breathed deeply through her nose, eyes closed as she attempted to fall asleep in the dark room. Across from her she could hear the faint sound of Soul's breathing. In and out. In and out. She made a noise of frustration and opened her eyes to stare blankly up at the ceiling.

"Would you just go to sleep already?"

Maka turned her head to stare at Soul, but all she saw was his still form in the dark. "I thought you were asleep," she told him, though she wasn't sure why. She didn't need to explain herself to him.

"What's wrong?" he asked, opening his eyes and turning his head to face her on his pillow. His red eyes glowed brightly in the dark night. "I can feel you worrying."

She frowned, swallowing. "You can?" she asked softly, though even her whispers sounded loud in the room.

He blinked at her. "It's like a banging in my head."

Maka nodded, and took a moment to wonder what she should tell him. She settled on the truth. "I can't believe I'm really here. I can't believe I found you. I can't believe I'm finally living my dream." She smiled at him. "It's all so unreal."

"Hm," he murmured, absently.

"Are you excited about tomorrow?" she whispered, hoping that despite everything he would be just as eager as she was.

"No," he answered plainly. "No, I'm not."

"Why?"

"I never wanted this for myself, in fact this is that last thing I ever wanted to happen. You ruined my life. So no, I'm not _happy_." The last word was said in a growl and he turned over under his covers furiously.

Maka glared. Well it wasn't like she even wanted to know. And he was the one who started the stupid conversation. Petulantly, she stuck her tongue out at him and shuffled under the covers. She wouldn't let him ruin her happiness. Maka closed her eyes and fell asleep soon after, through the sheer force of her own will.

Nightmares plagued her all night long.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

_Beep! Beep! Beep!_

Maka adjusted her body into a more comfortable position before releasing a tired sigh. She felt pleasantly warm as her face pressed against the soft pillow, calm in a way she hadn't been in a long time. Blinking open her eyes, Maka woke face to face with smooth, tan skin.

Maka shrieked, rearing back away from where her face lay against Soul's stomach. He woke at the noise and their legs tangled as Maka fought frantically to get away. Her elbow dug into Soul's stomach as she jolted upward; she ignored his yelp of pain.

"Get off me!" he growled.

"I'm trying!" Maka snarled back, still attempting to pull away with some difficulty. She pushed his face away when it got too close, fingers digging into his cheek. "We wouldn't have this problem if you didn't try and cuddle up with me!"

"What are you talking about?" Soul grunted, finally shoving her away. His face was red with annoyance. "You were crying for your father and came crawling over to me."

Maka landed on her rear and quickly scrambled up at his words, a fierce blush staining her cheeks. "What? No I didn't!" She couldn't have, could she? The heat in her cheeks was spreading to her neck as she tried to remember if she'd had a dream the night before.

Soul raised a sardonic eyebrow at her as he brushed himself off. "You don't have to believe me," he shrugged, "but I'm telling the truth."

"I know I didn't," Maka reiterated firmly. "I wouldn't."

"Hm," Soul hummed, giving her a smirk as he crossed his arms. "Must've been my imagination."

Maka glared, the embarrassment hot in her chest. "Whatever."

_Beep! Beep! Beep!_

Recognizing what had woken her in the first place, Maka scrambled over the dirty clothes. She ignored the mumbled "hey!" from Soul when she kicked his side in her haste to reach the news tablet. She finally found it beneath a feminine-looking shirt, pressed the red button at the bottom and handed it to him. When he only stared at her she shook it in front of his face. "Read it!" she groused.

With a tired exhale, Soul lowered his eyes to the tablet. "We have a challenge today," he told her, lifting a hand to scroll through the information on the screen. He raised an eyebrow. "In twenty minutes."

"Twenty minutes!" Maka shrieked. She threw the tablet at Soul, who caught it just before it bashed into his head. "Hurry up and get ready! We're going to be late!"

"Wait, you still want to go?" Soul asked, standing up and following her as she hurried through the small apartment. He caught her hand and spun her around to face him. "After what happened with Tobias? You must know he's going to do everything he can to kill us, right?"

Maka jerked her arm back. "Of course we're still going!"

"But why?" Soul asked. "He'll pull the same shit he did in the first round, probably worse."

"I don't care," Maka snapped, grabbing the tablet from his hand. She opened the door, and the morning sun beat down hot against her cheek. "We're going and we're going to win."

"Why is this so important to you?" Soul asked, glaring down at her. "So important that you'd risk both our lives? For what? Money?"

"Yes," Maka growled.

"Bullshit!" Soul fired back, eyes blazing as he stomped over to her. He didn't stop till he was less than a foot away, so close their breath mingled as he stared down at her with hard eyes. "This has to do with your father. You still want him to notice you. Even after how he treated you!"

Her back hit the side of the door jam. "You don't know what you're talking about."

His hand slammed against the wood above her head as he leaned down. "Then why'd he kick you out of his house?"

"Because he's confused," Maka shouted, fighting the swelling panic in her chest. Her sweaty fingers clenched into fists behind her. "He'll see I did what's best soon."

Soul closed his eyes and turned his head to the side, resting his forehead against his inner arm. His frustration was clear on his face. "Yeah?" he muttered into his shirt. "I'm not so sure."

He opened his eyes and looked down at her, and the intensity was too much for Maka to take. She slid under his arm and bolted out the door like a frightened rabbit, not waiting to see if he followed.

* * *

><p>…<p>

The crowds around the colosseum were thick and teeming with life. Soul and Maka had had some trouble pushing through the swarms of people, but finally managed to get through the gates, the official nodding briefly to allow them through.

"Where to now?" Soul asked stiffly, probably still mad at her. Maka ignored his mood, preferring to pretend the events of that morning had never taken place at all.

"You said it tells us to meet in the waiting hall?" she asked him, like nothing was wrong, nothing at all. He rolled his eyes and nodded. "It shouldn't be too far then, c'mon."

Soul followed behind her diligently as they searched the colosseum underbelly for the hall. It wasn't too difficult to find, and after only two wrong turns, they finally located their destination.

The hall was a wide room full of their fellow participants, all talking excitedly to themselves. They wore thick armour and thick streaks of paint. "Where do we get the armour?" Maka wondered aloud, stretching her neck to try and see over the influx of bodies. "And the paint?"

"This way," Soul said tersely, grabbing her arm and tugging her to one side of the room. He shoved people aside with an elbow as he cut through the bodies, ignoring the unpleasant protests he received. Finally, Soul stopped in front of the bird man from yesterday. "We've arrived late," he informed. "Do you know where we could get ready?"

"This area is for the gladiators only," was the chirped reply. He looked Soul up and down with a certain degree of disdain. "Wisps are in another room."

Soul's eye twitched. "Do you mind showing me where?"

The bird man sniffed but nodded, waving over another official. "This is Tergid, he will show you to the other room." Soul nodded and left without a backward glance at Maka, who frowned at his retreating figure.

"You will have to get ready as well," the birdman said, bringing Maka's attention back to him. "We have armour and your paint colour already picked out if you will follow me."

"Alright," Maka answered, and after looking one last time in the direction that Soul had disappeared into, followed the feathered male as he waddled down the hallway.

* * *

><p>….<p>

The armour was tight, wrapping around her breasts till she could hardly breathe. It was a hard leather, stiff enough to offer decent protection, but flexible enough that it wouldn't hinder her movements. Maka moved her arm in a quick circle, wincing when the leather pinched into her skin. Or at least wouldn't hinder her _much_.

"Excuse me," Maka prompted to the lady who'd helped her change and had tied the corset string at her back to the point that she might soon pass out. The woman was busy mixing paint in the corner, muttering quietly to herself as she did so. "Could you loosen this? It's a bit tight."

The woman ignored her, continued to mumble as she work. Maka sighed, then, a little louder, called, "_Excuse me?_"

"Done!" the woman cheered in a pleasant voice, whirling around with the small bowl of red paint. "Oh my goodness!" She must have seen Maka struggling with the ties for she hurried over and loosened them. "I'm so sorry! I don't do this often, you see." On queue, Maka released a rush of breath when the ties loosened, allowing her to breathe easier.

"Thanks," she muttered, rubbing her side. "It was starting to get hard to…" Maka trailed off as she looked up, seeing the woman for the first time. The aristocratic features almost instantly put her on guard, her eyes narrowing as she tried to place the familiar face before her. Hesitant, and in as pleasant a tone as she could manage, Maka asked her, "Do I know you? You seem familiar."

The woman, whose dark hair hung over her shoulder in gentle waves of shining ebony, shrugged, fidgeting with her fingers. She seemed shy, if the rosy hue on her cheeks was any indication. Maka's eyes lowered, drawn somehow to the jewelry she wore around her neck. It was a simple piece, gold, and…her father's.

Maka swallowed, eyes moving back up to Tsubaki's face. "You're Tobias's daughter," she said.

Tsubaki's shoulders slumped in defeat. "Yes," she admitted. "I heard about a woman entering the tournament and I wanted to meet you." Suddenly Maka's hands were gathered up and held almost reverently. Maka looked from them to Tsubaki, and she could feel the confusion twist her face. "You are an inspiration, Maka Albarn."

"Um…"

"I've trained my whole life, but it would never amount to anything because of my sex. But you, you disregard the thoughts of others and perform anyways." She squeezed her fingers earnestly. "I want to help you, in any way I can."

Maka's stomach revolted against the thought of trusting a noble, more specifically _Tobias's _daughter. She opened her mouth to decline, but something, perhaps the wide-eyed gaze of Tsubaki's or her own struggles in the past, made her say instead, "Okay."

The shocked joy that bloomed on Tsubaki's face made Maka happy she'd agreed.

"Thank you!" Tsubaki cried, shaking Maka's hand up and down as she grinned. "Thank you! I won't let you down! I'll be helpful, you'll see!"

Maka smiled, because something about Tsubaki made it impossible not to. Maybe Blackstar hadn't made such a bad choice after all. Although, it still remained to be seen whether or not _she_ was right in picking the blue-haired oaf.

"Okay! We need to get this paint on, they'll be expecting you soon!"

"What—" Maka sputtered as Tsubaki slapped paint across her face with red stained bristles. "Stop!"

"Don't be a baby, we're almost done," Tsubaki chided, shoving away Maka's arm with surprising strength. When finally the onslaught ceased, Tsubaki took a step back and smiled. "Perfect!"

"It feels weird on my face," Maka complained, reaching up to probe it with a finger.

Tsubaki slapped her hand away. "Don't touch it!" she scolded. "The paint is still wet. Now hurry up, they should be leaving soon."

Opening the door, Tsubaki turned back to Maka with a warm smile. "I have to go before I get caught—I'm technically not supposed to be here."

Maka nodded, fighting not to scrape the horrid paste from her face. "Okay," she mumbled, careful to avoid licking off any paint on her lips. It tasted foul.

Tsubaki was still at the door. "Good luck, Maka," she said, almost wistfully. "I'll be watching...and thank you again. For doing this."

Maka wanted to say that she wasn't doing it for her, but managed another nod. It wouldn't do to piss off the woman helping her. "Bye."

When Tsubaki had gone, Maka pushed herself off the seat and, releasing a short huff, walked out into the fray of gladiators.

She instantly felt out of place among the crowd. Despite this, Maka walked over to a small group of men, a smile plastered on her face as she raised a hand in greeting. She was about to offer her name when they spotted her and quickly closed the circle.

Maka rolled her eyes, ignoring the disappointed twinge in her heart. As she stood alone, rubbing her arm feebly, she wondered how Soul was faring with the other wisps.

"Gladiators! If you'll follow me we'll take you to your stations!"

Relieved, Maka hurried after the other warriors as they began to move. One eyed her with distaste when she got too close but she ignored him, facing forward as they were lead down a wide, winding hall.

"You will each be placed at your own gate. The round starts when that gate opens. You will find a box filled with a randomly decided weapon."

"What about our wisps?" someone raised their hand to ask. "When do we meet up with them?"

"You will have to fight till the bell rings three times. If by that time you've found your wisp, you may join—but not before then."

"What do you mean "if" we find our wisps? Will they be lost?" a different person asked, their voice noticeably squeaky."

The official laughed, his great chest shaking as they approached the first door in a long winding hall. "You'll see. Now, the first we have here is for...Gortec." A pimply, four-armed man hobbled to the front, knocking into Maka on his way.

"Sorry," was the sarcastic apology.

"Don't worry about it," she grunted, glaring after him.

Gortec was shoved in a room, the door locked behind him and they moved to the next, another name called. It was then Maka realized the curving hallway was full of these large, metal doors, and they were stopping at each one.

"Maka!" Maka turned her head back to the official and shoved her way through the crowd.

"Present," Maka chirped. The man rolled his eyes and opened the large door. He didn't wait for her to acquiesce before pushing her in the smallish room with more force than perhaps was required.

It closed with a loud bang behind her.

Sniffing at the door, Maka turned around to face the room. It was small, filled with only a chair and a small mirror—presumable to check appearance before the tournament. The footsteps continued down the hall and Maka walked up to the mirror hesitantly.

It was tarnished, but she could easily see her face splattered in the silly red paint. Her fingers touched the glass, felt the cool matter beneath her fingertips. Her chest puffed as she examined her armoured reflection.

She looked strong. Capable.

A loud bell rang around her then, and Maka clapped her hands over her ears as it finished its tolling echo.

The wall opposite her shook before slowly rising from the ground, allowing the sound that had once been muffled to come through it. The roaring of the crowd, the enthusiastic announcer.

"—specially designed by the most brilliant minds on the planet, they have only till the third bell rings to find each other. Then and only then may our warriors join as one gladiator with their wisps!"

The quivering door lifted to reveal a barred gate. Beyond was a dust filled path that winded around a corner. In the centre was the wooden box the official had told them about, the one containing her weapon. Maka walked over, her hands wrapping around the bars and pressing her forehead against them.

Her heart pounded, the adrenaline coursing. Her fingers clenched with anticipation.

"Release the gladiators into the maze!"

The gate creaked open slowly and Maka let go, taking a step back to let it rise. When it was halfway lifted, Maka darted beneath the metal and slipped through. She almost immediately dove at the wooden box and threw off the lid.

Maka looked inside and found...a garrote wire.

What the hell?

Screwing up her face, Maka pulled out the floppy wire, the two crudely made handles bouncing against each other on either end. It was used to wrap around someones head to choke them. It wasn't a _bad _weapon, she supposed. It just wasn't a good one—especially for combat.

Maka's ears perked at the distant cheers of the fans, no doubt calling out to their favourite players as they left their own gates. Blowing the hair out of her eyes and groaning at her luck, Maka tied the wire loosely around her hip. She then took off and ran deeper into the maze, intent on finding Soul as soon as possible.

"_Welcome ladies and gentlemen to the second round of our tournament! For those of you just arriving, in this round, players will first have to find their partners within the maze, avoiding fire_—" someone screamed in pain in the distance and Maka winced "—_obstacles_—" another horror filled scream "—_and other such booby traps placed throughout the maze_!" The walls on either side of Maka opened up and shot out black arrows. With a shriek, Maka dove to the ground and covered her head with her arms, narrowly avoiding being impaled. The arrows bounced off the opposite walls and fell harmlessly over her back.

"_Once the partners have found each other, they will then have to wait till the bell tolls twice to join and become gladiators!_" The announcer paused as the crowd erupted in uproarious applause. "_Gladiators will then have thirty minutes to fight each other within the battlefield. The ten warriors with the least kills will be disqualified. However, the gladiator with the most kills will receive a boon in the next round!_"

Maka pushed up from the ground and continued through the maze. Her ears strained to hear for anyone around her—though it was difficult over the hard thumping of her heart. Something moved to her left and Maka froze, pressing herself against a dirt-packed wall.

A foot stepped out and she froze, the edge of a sword barely visible.

..._A sword?_ Maka inwardly seethed when she saw it. She'd only gotten a freaking wire!

The man moved and Maka hitched a breath, edging away as best she could. Her head twisted back behind her to examine the corner at the other end. It was about twenty feet away.

She could make it. Maka turned her head back around only to find the curious eyes of the man she'd met in the waiting room during the first round. The one with the scar that had made Soul wary.

His head tilted at her.

"You find someone?" a voice asked from around the wall. Maka's breath hitched and she looked to the left with wide eyes, as though hoping to see the body who'd asked the question through the clay walls of the maze. When her eyes returned to the man towering above her, he hadn't moved his gaze.

He was quiet a long time, simply watching her as he thought. By this point, Maka was sure she was going to die, but then, to her utter relief and surprise, he called back to the disembodied voice, "No. No one's here. Check the other side for me, would you?"

"Got it."

His lips quirked at her surprise and he gave her a wink before turning on the heel of his boot and sauntering away. "Take care of my little brother for me," he called back before disappearing entirely.

What?

Before Maka could think too long on his odd statement, the announcer's voice rang out once more. "_Three of our competitors have already found their partners! Good thing too, the bell is about to ring_!"

A strangled noise left her throat as Maka ditched her cautious strategy and began running around corners. She was a hairs breadth from giving up and just calling out for Soul when the collar of her leather armour was jerked back—nearly choking her. Maka coughed at the pressure as she was lifted from the ground. The laces of her leather bodice groaned in protest from her weight.

"Well, well." Maka glared through her watering eyes at the ugly bald man as she struggled in his hold. "Looky what we got here." He licked his lips and his hand moved closer towards her.

Maka squeezed her eyes shut, fiddling to reach the garrotte wire at her hip. Thankfully, she didn't have to worry.

_Thunk!_

The man's face went slack moments before he slumped in a heap to the ground. Maka looked past him to see Soul with a large rock held over his head, panting as he glared down at the man between them. Soul dropped the rock, leaned over her aggressor, grabbed her hand, and pulled her along with him into a run.

"They gave you a rock?" she called up to him.

"No," he replied, stopping to take a quick look around one corner. When he turned back to her, he deadpanned with a dry expression, "I got a spoon."

Maka snorted, clapping a hand over her mouth. It wasn't funny—or, at least, it shouldn't be. They could very well be in perilous danger but the image of him opening that box and pulling out a spoon had her fighting back giggles.

"I'm glad you find this situation so hilarious," he snapped back, though the amusement was obvious in his eyes as he tried to hide a smile. His face changed then to a frown as he examined her. "Is that the armour they gave you?" he asked.

"Yes, do you like it?" Maka said. Hopefully she didn't sound _too_ eager.

"It's falling apart."

"What!?" she exclaimed, and jerked Soul to a halt by their connected hands. She looked down at herself and, sure enough, the leather armour had ripped down the sides. Upon closer inspection, she could tell it had been tampered with. "Piece of shit," she muttered, pulling it off her body and brushing out the white shirt beneath.

"It burns! It burns!" A man engulfed in flames ran passed them, carrying with him the scent of charred flesh. Maka and Soul both pressed against the wall when he went by, out of reach of his flailing arms.

"We need to keep moving," Maka said, gaze following the retreating man in shock.

Soul nodded absently, eyes wide. "Yeah..."

"There!" A ball of fire whipped by them, so close Maka felt the heat against her flesh and smelled her own sizzling hair. She leaned over Soul. An alien and his wisp stood, their matching tentacles writhing excitedly behind them. The wisp, paler in colour, held a ball of fire in his palm.

"Soul!" Maka shrieked.

"I see them," he strained, following after her as she picked up a run. The ball of energy launched for them. It landed just above their hands, embedding into the hard clay wall. Maka lifted an arm to cover her head as it crumbled away above them.

"Quick! If we kill them we get a bonus!"

Maka picked up speed at the menacing words, skidding on her heels as she changed direction. She grabbed Soul's hand and yanked him along with her when he would've kept going straight.

"The bell should ring soon!" Maka called back to him. "Then we can merge and—" she froze, words stuck on her lips as she stared ahead of her. Soul collided into her with an _oof _but she merely took a step forward to steady them both and remained still.

It was a dead end.

She spun around, facing the way they'd come. The loud stomping footfalls closed in on them. Their pursuers turned the corner, malicious grins on their faces.

A ball of power ignited in one's palm. Soul hissed out an oath beneath his breath and tackled Maka to the earth, pressing her down against it with his body. The explosive shot was launched a second later.

Rocks tumbled over them both, and Soul covered Maka as best he could as the sharp stones fell against his back.

_Ring!_

_Ring!_

_Ring!_

The signal to merge.

Soul's body collapsed in relief, flattening against her, and from his position he immediately disintegrated into black fumes that soaked into her flesh till they were one. The power entered her like a familiar warmth, allowing her to breathe easier with the completeness the sensation brought. She rose shakily to her knees, using the wall as a crutch to lean on.

It was getting easier, merging with him like this. It felt good, right. Then the disturbing thought entered Maka's mind that perhaps the problem might be that it was becoming _too_ easy.

_Addicting_ even.

As if the words were a trigger, her mind began to haze out, intoxicated by the feelings that thrummed through her veins from Soul's power. The black consumed her mind. She didn't want it to stop. In fact, she wanted to do nothing but relish in the sensation of him. She felt warm, like his arms were wrapped around her in an intimate embrace.

Little did Maka realize, but as she was temporarily lost in her own thoughts, drunk on the sensation of black magic, her opponent was closing in.

A voice in her head tore through her musings. _As flattering as this is to hear, can you please focus on the task at hand?_

Maka jolted into awareness, ears heating from embarrassment as she scrambled to her feet. The situation came flooding back and Maka hurriedly allowed the black magic to leave her palms in a smoky mass. A second later they solidified into sharp points, curving into two deadly sickle scythes. She shook her head.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she told him through her teeth, still trying to shake off the high. This merging was somehow different from the first and the second, and she was having trouble focusing. It was like she was sinking into a pit of inky darkness, completely willing as it engulfed her with power and pleasure. What was happening to her?

_Oh really?_

"Really." Those opposite them had also joined, the only noticeable change a faint lightening of colour to the skin, and the tentacles on the gladiator's back had doubled. He was grinning at her, a large axe in his hand that had not been there before.

Her mind was fading out again, blinking into blackness, until,_ I find it funny, actually._

Great. He was developing a sense of humour. "_What?_" Maka asked beneath her breath.

_How completely infatuated you are with me when it's suppose to be _me_ who is eating out of _your_ hand._

The tentacled gladiator launched at them, howling as he hefted his weapon above his head. Maka caught the blow betwixt her crossed blades, then, with a grunt, pushed out and sent him stumbling back. She twirled and bounded down on him with cold fury. He only just rolled out of the way.

"And why is it," Maka grated as she exchanged blows, panting, "that you believe I am eating out of your hands?"

_You mean aside from the flattering monologuing? _

"Yes," she muttered. "_Besides that_." Her blows grew harder with her ire, more meticulous. Slashing and pounding against her opponent who had taken steps back under the force of her will.

_The groping for one thing_—

"Excuse me!? I do not—" she cut herself off, glancing at the other gladiator, licked her sharp teeth, and said in a lower tone, "I do not _grope_ you."

It was then, in a swirl of heated cheeks and pounding heart, that Maka realized that Soul was offering distractions to keep her centred. Without them she might have flown away in her own thoughts.

The next words were spoken calmly in her mind, almost gently, and they were like a hammer against the cage 'round her heart. _You cried out in your sleep and lunged for me._

The tentacle man had risen to his feet and was sprinting towards them, pumping two of his arms for speed. The axe was raised above his head, aiming for her.

Maka spun on the balls of her feet, stance immediately defensive.

He swung, missed, weapon embedding in the earth.

Maka's foot slammed down on the blunt end and she struck, her swords crossing at his neck. She caught a glimpse of his eyes rolling up as his severed head fell to the earth. His body fell a second later.

The man and his wisp parted in a wave of blue light; both dead.

Her chest heaved as she backed away. Her hands shook, wide eyes flickering between the two men. The wisp she'd killed had hair as white as snow. The blood that pooled from his neck turned it scarlet.

She needed to throw up. Nausea swirled in her gut at the image. Her trembling fingers released her weapons and they vanished in twin plumes of black. _She needed to throw up._

_Ring!_

_Ring!_

_Ring!_

_"Looks like that's the end of this round ladies and gentlemen! Our winners are Wes and Evans! Thank you for coming to see the show and be sure to buy tickets to tomorrow's event!_

Soul left her just as she fell to her knees, spewing her guts out on the dirt floor. Someone laughed in the distance. "Gross! The girl is puking!"

"Well, it's no wonder. The ring isn't meant for a woman's delicate sensibilities."

Maka's head whipped around, teeth barred as she searched the crowd for the voices. A warm hand lifted her from her knees. "C'mon," Soul said softly in her ear. "Let's get you home."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

When Soul and Maka arrived back at Blackstar's dingy apartment, Spirit was waiting for them at the door, stiff-shouldered and pensive. He looked up from beneath his stringy red hair upon their arrival, his gaze moving between them before nodding tersely at Soul. He then faced Maka.

Her steps faltered at the sight of his bloodshot eyes, but she quickly checked herself and walked towards him, albeit hesitantly. The sun had reached mid-level in the sky, blinding in its usual intensity, and the heat moistened her already damp palms with sweat. She squeezed them, heart racing as she approached her father.

"Hey, Maka," Spirit said hoarsely once she neared, a grim look on his unshaven face. "Can we talk?"

After offering him a weary twitch of her lips, Maka looked back at Soul, who stared at Spirit with distrust. Sensing her gaze, his red eyes shot to hers. A wordless conversation passed between them then, in which Soul's glare intensified and Maka gave a helpless shrug. Several beats later, he rolled his eyes and turned away, marching up the steps with a final sneer at Spirit.

"So," Maka chimed to get Spirit's attention. He looked away from Soul's retreating figure and back to her. "What did you want to talk about?"

"Let's go in the alley," he said, chin nudging to the side of the building. "Less chance we'll be… disturbed." Maka looked over at the window to see Soul glaring through the curtains.

"Right."

She followed him down the steps and around the building, stopping beside a large steaming dumpster. Flies buzzed around the outside, smacking into walls and their faces systematically. Maka cringed, trying to wave the bugs away without success.

"About what happened back home," Spirit began when they stopped, regaining her attention. He held his hands at his side: clenching, unclenching, clenching again. This pattern continued until he finally released a loud sigh and faced her, whispering, as though finally speaking a dreaded secret, "_I'm sorry_. I don't mean to hurt you."

Her heart warmed in her chest. Even though she understood he hadn't done it deliberately, hearing him say so brought a certain degree of relief to her. "I know," she said, meaning it.

He nodded, looking away. His hand rubbed his neck and he seemed to think about his next words. "I wish you hadn't done this," he told her finally, stoically. "Hadn't gone behind my back like that."

The warmth left as irritation sparked, hard and fast. Maka gritted her teeth and took a step towards her father. "What choice did I have, dad?" Maka shot back. "We're _broke_, it was only a matter of time before one of us was caught for stealing. I would never be able to get a job other than prostitution and you can never keep one! _This_ was my only option."

Spirit ran a tired hand over his face, looking weary and weighted. "No, it wasn't, Maka," he murmured. "It wasn't, and I'm sorry I led you to believe it was. We could have found a way, somehow."

"No, dad! This is the right choice, you'll see!"

"You'll die!" he thundered, sounding terrified to her ears. "You'll be bleeding and broken in the dirt and I won't be able to do a thing to help you!"

She took his arm in her hand. "No, I won't. I'm strong. _You_ taught me, and Soul has my back in the ring despite how he might act. I've got this. I think I can really win."

At the mention of her wisp, Spirit groaned and shook his head. "You've condemned yourself, Maka. Condemned yourself to both the most wonderful and most heartbreaking of relationships." He pointed a finger at the building. "That wisp will become your everything, and as wonderful as that is, it also means that without him you will be _nothing_. And I hear he has black magic, no good can come from black magic. Tobias _hates _black magic and you don't want him as an enemy."

"I told you it isn't like that with him—"

"Don't be naive, Maka! Don't try and teach me something you know nothing about." He breathed out slowly, as if in a try for patience. "I still don't know why, after everything you've seen happen to me, how I've lived, how you could do such a thing. How you could _want _such a thing. You know what losing my wisp has done to me!"

"What do you mean?" Maka cried. "We were happy just the two of us. You don't need your wisp. Remember, you said I saved you! You said I was all you needed!"

"I LIED!" he roared, spun around to face her with rage in his eyes. Almost immediately he deflated, retreating into a small frame. He swallowed, casting her a quick, hesitant glance. "I lied."

"What?" Maka whispered, eyes wide and glassy. "What do you mean?"

Spirit's shoulders rose and fell with a great sigh,. "Before you came to me, I was a mess. Drugs, drinking, women—I used it all to forget him." He leaned back against the wall, his head lowered as he spoke. "He was such an intrinsic part of me that when he died, he took parts of me I never knew he'd owned."

"Your wisp?"

He nodded. "Stein." A bitter laugh. "He was an asshole, always making fun of me and picking on me. But when it mattered, he was always there." He closed his eyes. "And then he wasn't."

Spirit looked at Maka, and she saw the depth of pain in his blue eyes. He continued, "I was ready to die, Maka, and I don't know why it took me so long. I was so lost—it would have been a pleasure." Spirit blinked at her as he examined her expression, allowing his tone to soften when he added, "Baby, don't cry."

Maka wiped her eyes. "M'not," she sniffed, glaring at him. "Why didn't you though? Kill yourself?"

He smiled then, the first show of happiness he'd displayed since he'd started talking to her. It eased some of the pain in her chest. "Because you came, brought by your mother in your little basket, squealing at the world like you had something to prove. In a way you did give me the strength to live," he paused; the emotion in his eyes made them bright, "but Maka, it never lasts, _never_. I love you, of course I do, but even you weren't enough. I wish you had been..." he looked down at his feet, "for both our sakes."

The tears fell like warm rain down her cheeks. She ignored them, struggling to understand. "Why did you say I was?"

"Because I wanted you to be, and maybe in some ways you were. Just not where it mattered."

It was hard to breathe, the words he spoke like daggers in her heart. The tears were stubborn and kept coming, like sand that grated against her throat. She swallowed, sniffing, and asked, "Was this what you wanted to tell me?" The bitterness was a hateful balloon in her chest, swelling.

He shook his head. "No. I came to offer my support."

The ire deflated. "What?"

"You're my daughter," he reminded gruffly, shoulders hunched and arms crossed. "I love you despite what you've done." A pause, in which his eyes ran over her form, took her in with a sobriety he'd lacked in recent years. He laughed to himself. "Perhaps even because of it."

Hope rose like a warm sunrise in her chest, filling every crevice of her being. "You will?"

He shrugged. "Of course. It's time I man up."

After a moment of hesitancy, Maka closed the distance and wrapped her arms around her father. "Thanks, dad."

He stilled, then, "I thought I told you to call me papa." Maka laughed and hugged him tighter, peeking over his shoulder as she did so.

Soul stood leaning casually against the brick wall behind them, a contemplative expression on his face. He noticed her gaze, nodded briefly, then turned to leave.

* * *

><p>…<p>

"How did it go?"

Maka numbly closed the door behind her, slumping back against it. She looked up at Soul, feeling emotionally drained. He held the tablet in his hand and sat on the bed, lounging against the wall with his arm propped up on his knee.

"You tell me," Maka muttered. "You heard most of it."

He nodded, not denying it.

With a tired sigh, Maka ran a hand through her hair as she pushed off the door. "He said he'd help us."

"Help how?"

Maka shrugged. "I'm not sure, he didn't say."

Soul was silent for a beat, scrutinizing her expression as she came over to sit beside him. The mattress sank down beneath her. How did Blackstar get a mattress anyway, Maka wondered idly. Wasn't he poor? Soul's voice cut through her thoughts. "I suppose we could use all the help we can get."

She shuffled over further onto the mattress, lounging down on her side to face him. "Tsubaki also offered."

He seemed to think a moment, then, "Tobias's daughter?"

A nod. "Yeah." Maka unconsciously sank down against Soul, their shoulders brushing. She closed her eyes. "She snuck in to help me put my armour on and asked if she could help me."

"What could she do?"

"I don't know,_ something,_ I suppose. She _is_ on the inside in a way."

The room went quiet, both of them taken over by their own thoughts. Maka knew Soul had heard what Spirit had said about their binding, what it would entail, and she was intensely curious to know what he thought of it. If there was any weight to the statement or if her father had been spouting nonsense.

She, herself, wasn't quite sure what to think.

"We've been invited to have dinner with the other gladiators." Maka blinked at his words, then looked down as he dropped the tablet in her lap. The letters instantly danced in her vision, making it impossible to discern the words.

"What?"

He took it back, yet still held it in a way that she was able to see the screen. A part of her wanted to berate him for the action, snap out bitterly that she couldn't read so what was the point? Another part was warmed at the seemingly insignificant gesture. She shuffled closer without thinking.

"Dinner. Tonight. We're supposed to 'meet up for an evening dinner at the gladiator dining hall to welcome new participants'," he paused, "know where that is?"

She nodded, eyes on the tablet and the letters that danced in her vision alone. "We passed it when we went in today." Her eyes suddenly sparkled and she grinned at Soul. "Do you think this is them finally accepting us?"

He appeared grim, but said anyway, "Could be."

* * *

><p>…<p>

Maka stared out at the dining hall with a mixture of unease and giddiness. On the one hand, she got free food—_good_ free food. On the other, however, every warrior and wisp was glaring at them as they stood in the doorway of the room. Soul stood beside her, equally as unsure of their situation.

"Maybe we should eat somewhere else," he murmured to her, eyeing the more vicious-looking warriors with suspicion. He stood close to her, something she noticed he'd been doing more and more.

"It's fine," she assured, with as much flippancy as she could muster. "Look, there's a free table just in the corner. Come on."

Without waiting to see if he followed, Maka walked purposefully towards the table in the far corner. She slapped the bowl she'd been given onto the counter and slipped her legs over the bench. Soul sank down grumpily next to her, so close that their arms brushed every time one of them moved. "I don't like this," he told her softly, his eyes on the gruff-looking person that was glaring at them from across the room. His many hands curled menacingly in front of him, some flexing to show off his scaly muscles. Maka made a face.

"Don't worry so much," she muttered back, though she could feel a sense of unease worm through her the longer they sat there. Whether it was his or her own she wasn't sure. "We're just here to eat. Once we're done we'll—"

A tray slapped down hard on the table space in front of them. Maka jumped in her seat and looked up to find the ugly mug of the man who'd given them a hard time during signups. His wisp sat down next to him. Soul stiffened beside her and Maka quickly reached down to grab his shirt before he could launch himself across the table.

"Pleasant afternoon'," Giriko said, grinning lewdly at Maka.

"Mhm," Maka hummed with a stiff smile, her lips pressed together in a thin line as she continued to grip Soul's shirt to keep him in place. Soul just glared.

"How are you enjoyin' the tournament so far?" he asked, his tone deceptively pleasant.

"Fine, thank you."

"You think you got a chance, then?"

Maka frowned, narrowing her eyes at him. "I think we have as much chance as anyone here," she stated simply, an edge to her tone.

He bit into something purple that made a loud cracking sound as it broke beneath his teeth. Maka's lips pinched in a thin line. "Is that so?" he asked, grinning smugly. "I hear that your passing that last round was nothing but a fluke. I'd bet you won't last a minute in the next one before you're squashed like a bug."

Maka gritted her teeth, the fingers that still held onto Soul's shirt tightening around the fabric. "Is that so?" she snapped, perhaps unwisely. It was Soul's turn to put a placating hand on Maka, his fingers brushing her thigh in warning. Maka ignored him. "I bet you wouldn't last _half that_."

The man grinned, sharing a conspiratorial glance with his wisp as they chuckled together cruelly. "I accept your bet."

Maka blinked. "What."

"If you lose this next match, you have to flash us your tits."

She reeled back, her eyes darted between the two men who snickered together in front of her. "What?" she exclaimed, though she'd heard perfectly. So had Soul, considering the angry growl coming from his direction. Maka shifted uncomfortably, her curiosity peaked despite herself. She was sorely tempted to punch him in the nose but somehow managed to refrain, asking instead, "And if you lose?" Soul's head whipped around to look at her, but she ignored his incredulous gaze. "What then?"

His smile widened, showing off his grotesque yellow teeth. "Anything you like, missy."

_"Maka!_" Soul hissed beside her under his breath. She looked at him, at his angry gaze and the subtle shake of his head. Maka turned back to Giriko.

"Deal."

The smile turned wicked. "Deal."

As soon as the words were out, Soul pulled Maka off the bench by her collar and tugged her out of the dining hall. So surprised by this, Maka remained stunned and pliant and only regained her senses when she'd been pulled completely out of the room. Soul pushed her behind a corner and turned with a fierce scowl. "What the hell were you thinking!?" he raged.

"What do you mean?"

His hand gestured to the dining hall. "That! Agreeing to expose yourself to _him_!" Soul exclaimed.

"Only if he wins," Maka reminded. "_Which he won't._"

"You don't know that!" Soul grated.

"Yes I do," said Maka. "Because we'll win."

"But what if we don't!?" Soul snapped loudly. "Then you have to show _those _to _them_!"

"It'll be fine," she assured, waving her hand in the air. "Don't worry about it. Come on, let's go sit back down, I'm starving."

Grumbling, Soul followed after her.

They returned to the table, Giriko and his wisp murmuring lowly to one another. "Gentlemen," Maka announced.

Giriko looked up, his naturally pinched and unpleasant face twisting into an eerie smile. Maka cringed when she saw it. "Please." He gestured for them to retake their seats. "You haven't finished your dinner."

Maka and Soul sat down, Soul decidedly cautious through their link. She nudged him with her elbow, a friendly smile plastered on her own face. "So," she tried, picking up her spoon. "Do you fellows have a training spot, or—"

Without warning or preamble, hot, thick, liquid poured over their hands in great barrel fulls, dousing them in a sticky mixture that coated their skin and clothes. Maka sputtered, dropping her spoon to wipe away the syrup from her eyes. What even was—?

Feathers flew in her face next, sticking to the tar-like substance they'd been doused in.

The laughter that followed was uproarious, filling the dining hall as everyone took part. "Good luck in the next round then, doll! Get ready to strip for the whole lot of us!"

Maka looked at Soul, similarly dressed in the sticky mixture and trussed up like a bird. He was glaring at her wordlessly, clearly blaming her with his eyes.

She sighed, leaning over to pick off a colourful feather from his hair.

"My plumage!" Maka looked over to see the bird-like official squawking at the door. He flapped his wings in outrage. "My beautiful moltings!"

"Let's go," Soul muttered through the laughter still raging around them.

It took considerable effort to unstick his rear from the bench.

* * *

><p>..<p>

Maka and Soul walked down the road in relative silence, the tiny feathers on their clothes blowing in the wind. While they'd gotten used to the odd looks they'd received relatively fast in the time since they'd left the colosseum, Soul reached his limit when a man stared at them so long he tripped and stumbled over a pile of crates. He continued to watch even from the ground.

"Oh don't look at me like that, it isn't so bad," Maka told him when she noticed the fierce glare on his face. "The feathers are kind of pretty."

"Why aren't you more mad about this?" Soul asked, truly curious. "I thought you would be as furious as I am."

Maka shrugged. "It happens a lot, you get used to it. This was was relatively harmless, actually."

"Used to it?" Soul repeated. "Why would you have to get used to it? Does this happen often?"

A dry laugh passed through Maka's lips and she rubbed her neck—remembering too late the substance that coated her skin. Her hand stuck. "I've been trying to get into this tournament for a long time," Maka explained, struggling to detach her arm with little success. "They think it's great fun to play jokes on me. I'm alright, though, I have thick skin."

Soul released a weary breath, but offered a small smile anyway. He reached for her hand, still stuck to the back of her neck. "Here, let me help you with that."

Maka froze, backing away. "I don't think that's—"

"Don't worry about it—"

"No, really, Soul! You'll get—" Soul's hands slapped against her arm. And stayed there. "...stuck," Maka finished blandly, rolling her eyes as Soul blinked in sudden realization.

"You could have warned me," Soul muttered.

"Oh yes, and when would that have been, hm? When you were busy interrupting me?" He gritted his teeth and tugged without success. Maka snorted. "Soul, I never knew you were so attached to me."

"Bite me."

Maka had just opened her mouth and was showing her teeth threateningly when yells of outrage echoed through the streets. "Stop! Thief! Stop where you are!"

Curious, Maka watched the bustling crowd part way as a young, dark-haired boy tore by. Followed quickly, Maka realized a second later, by two hulking guards that smashed stands and pushed people over as they chased their target.

The boy, who Maka recognized faintly from around the city, looked back at his pursuers. He was riding a crude looking hoverboard as he deftly ducked beneath skirts and between legs, obviously familiar with this routine. The boy laughed, turning forward once again, seemingly content that he was losing them.

And ran face first into Soul.

"Oof!" Soul jolted back, his hand ripping painfully from Maka's arm as he was thrown to the ground by the lanky kid. They fell in a tangled heap of legs and arms and both struggled to free themselves.

"You there! Unhand that boy!" Maka turned to the giant guards, both of which, she realized, were employed by Tobias. They had been there the other day when she'd requested a wisp at the tent. As the guards approached, she stepped slightly in front of Soul and crossed her arms.

They stopped in front of her, panting from the exercise. "May I ask why you're chasing this kid?" Maka inquired, chin raised primly as she looked down her nose at them. It was admittedly difficult to appear prim whilst covered in sticky sludge and covered in feathers, but Maka felt that she may have pulled it off rather well, if the uncertain expression on their faces were any indication.

"No, you may not," the guard growled in return, obviously recognizing her as well.

"Then we can't let you have him." She didn't know the lanky child, who had limbs like skinny chicken legs and hair like the nest of a rodent—felt no untoward loyalty towards him—however, the chance to piss off anyone related to Tobias was one she couldn't pass up. That in mind, she raised a sardonic brow, as if to dare the guards to defy her.

"Then we'll just take _you_ with us," the guard growled, his large pig snout grunting with his ire. He huffed once, sending a plume of steam from his large nostrils. Maka would have retorted had she not noticed Soul stand up with some difficulty in the corner of her eye. What she saw had her promptly bursting into laughter.

The boy, who looked to be about fifteen, was stuck to Soul's chest, and he wriggled furiously as he tried to get away. Soul stared down at him in a mixture of confusion and disbelief. Upon noticing Maka's laughter, he looked up at her, wide eyed. His arms were free, but he was stuck chest to chest with the furious boy.

"As you can see," Maka began, smiling. "He's with us."

"We're under strict orders to take him in! He was caught spying on—" the guards partner elbowed him roughly in the ribs, cutting him off before he could reveal what he was about to say. He glared at the other guard, rubbing his side, and instead rumbled, "He has to come with us. He was hanging around the coliseum where he wasn't supposed to be."

Soul put his hands on his hips, eyes moving between the two humanoids. The boy had since stopped struggling, merely hanging off Soul and craning his head back to take in the exchange. He was watching Maka with scrutinizing yellow eyes.

Feeling oddly responsible for him, though not sure why—and certainly not happy about the new emotion—Maka turned back to the men. "It just so happens that I am part of the tournament going on at the moment," she said eloquently. She waved towards the child stuck to her wisp's chest, his bare feet dangling around Soul's shins. "He must have been waiting for us when you chased him. When we got out we couldn't find him anywhere."

The two beasts shared a look, then one turned back to Maka, a superior expression on his ugly face. "Is that so? Then what's the brats name?"

The kid whispered something in Soul's ear, and almost instantly the name shot into her mind.

_Kid, _it said, with a mental signature that she almost instantly attributed to Soul. It was an unexpected intrusion, one that nearly unbalanced her on her feet. She looked at her partner, who simply blinked back calmly.

"Kid," she said, not looking away from her wisp. "His name is Kid."

* * *

><p>…<p>

"How did you do that?" Maka asked her wisp as they walked up the stairs of Blackstar's apartment. The guards had grudgingly left them alone, though their reluctance was tangible. The boy, who had remained silent throughout despite the minor questions they'd asked him, was still hanging off of Soul's chest. "Talk to me in my mind like that, I mean. I didn't know we could."

"I didn't either," Soul admitted, waiting as she unlocked the door before following her in. "The kid—or _Kid_ rather—told me."

The door gave when Maka threw her body against it and they all clambered in, tripping over the clothes and other clutter that swamped the entrance. "Well how did _he_ know?" she wondered aloud, more to herself than anything.

As she moved into the kitchen, she heard Soul talking to the lanky kid behind her. "I think you're stuck to me," he said matter-of-factly.

"Can't you just take off your shirt?" the boy asked, speaking for the first time since they'd met. Maka was inwardly surprised by the smoothness of his tone—in her experience, kids his age had voices that cracked all over the place. His was one she might attribute to a story teller, or even one of the musicians who sang lullabies on holidays for the children in the city.

As these thoughts and others coursed rapidly through her mind, Maka slumped down on the mattress in the centre of the room, belatedly remembering her sticky (and feathered) situation. She pushed up and groaned as the blanket rose with her.

"I could, but that is unfortunately stuck to _me_. Do you see the issue here?"

"I do," the boy answered, just as seriously.

Maka dragged the blanket with her as she wandered further into the apartment until she had successfully located the rusted bathtub. It was old, something she herself had helped Blackstar haul up the steps of his apartment, but it would do. She turned the tap on all the way, the satisfying squeak loud in the small room as steaming water poured into the tub.

Maka stepped out of the bathroom to find the two males talking casually together. Like one wasn't attached to the other by a questionable substance. She tilted her head with a smile, amused by the scene despite herself.

"So you run this operation by yourself? What do you do?" she heard Soul ask.

"Information gathering mostly. It is a tricky business to find clientele. They are turned off by my size."

"I can't imagine why."

Maka snorted loudly, and the sound caught both their attentions. She pointed her thumb towards the bathroom. "You two go detach yourselves first. I started the bath."

After a moment Soul nodded and waddled past her. Once the door had closed behind them, she allowed herself to release the laughter she'd been suppressing.

* * *

><p>…..<p>

They did eventually detach themselves, though not without much scrubbing, and after Kid meandered from the bathroom, Soul remained behind. "He's still dirty," Kid had told her, matter-of-factly as he wandered back in. He sat up on the stoop and eyed her critically.

Now that he appeared before her unattached, she noted that he was much taller than she had originally imagined. He was skinny too, the bones on his cheek gaunt in a way that wasn't uncommon on the planet—ruled as it was by poverty. His hair, wet from the bath, was dark against his head, however she noticed faintly that some strands were bleached a stark white.

"So," he began, eyeing her up and down—not unlike the business savvy merchants in the bazar. "What is it you want from me?"

"What?" Maka asked absently as she looked through Blackstar's cupboard, careful not to get the sticky substance on any of the furniture. It was admittedly a challenge, and she'd already gotten feathers all over the floor—now a likely permanent feature.

"You saved me from those guards," he said, sounding far older than he appeared. "What do you want for it?"

"Want?" she repeated, pulling out a jar. She opened the lid, took a short sniff, and immediately shoved it back on the shelf with a look of disgust. She left a smear of black tar-covered feathers.

"Yeah, you must know I have information about the next round. I also know that your wisp has black magic, which is frowned upon."

Maka straightened, turned around, and gave Kid her full attention. "You have information about the next round?" she asked, holding still.

The boy gave her a weird look. "That's what I just said. Why do you keep repeating everything I say? Do you have a mental disorder? Or like, one of those worms in your brain that changes your thought pattern. You know, I've heard they hitch a ride onto the planet through cargo ships and—"

Maka held up a finger. "Okay, backtrack. What do you know about the next round?"

"I know you'll be fighting with the other gladiators in the same ring." Soul wandered in, looking clean, but Maka shot him a look when he would have spoken. Taking the hint, he came towards them silently. Kid continued, "Also, it will be a time based challenge, in which you must achieve a higher score than your opponent."

"We have to fight all of them at once?" Soul asked, evidently not looking forward to the idea. Frankly, neither was Maka.

Kid turned his head, noticing Soul for the first time. "You still have stuff stuck to your cheek, you aren't clean yet. And to answer your question, no, you aren't fighting other gladiators. It is some other system."

"Well that doesn't sound so bad," Maka said, her gaze catching Soul's as he rubbed his cheek with a palm. "Does it?"

He shrugged in answer. Rolling her eyes, Maka pushed off the counter, patting Soul's chest as she passed him. "Well, I'm going to try and get clean; you look for something to eat."

When she finally emerged, hours later, Kid had slipped off into the night and a poorly mashed potato was sitting on the cluttered counter waiting for her.

"Do you think he was telling the truth?" Maka asked Soul, grabbing the plate and sitting down beside him on the bed. He was staring at his binding bracelet, twisting it around his wrist with a thoughtful expression. She followed his gaze as she settled in.

"I don't know," he answered, then, after a moment of silence, added tersely, "I'm sorry, could you sit somewhere else? I'm not in the mood to talk."

"Oh," Maka said, unsure. She rose from the chair, wishing she didn't feel hurt by the slight rebuff. "Okay."

With one final look back at Soul, who still stared down at the bracer, lost in his own world, Maka retreated from the room.

They didn't speak for the rest of the night.

* * *

><p>….<p>

Maka opened her eyes in the dark room, lit only by the moon that shone through the window. She wasn't quite sure what woke her, but as soon as the awareness struck she knew that for whatever reason she wouldn't easily fall back into sleep. A soft curse drew her attention across the room to Soul's bed, and she blinked blearily at him in the dark.

His profile was outlined by the faint moonlight, and she could see him concentrating hard on something—if the furrow of his brows was any indication. Not wanting to disturb him, Maka slowly lifted her head from her pillow to peer over at him more easily.

Soul's hand was lifted in front of his face, and he was staring at it intently. The tips of his fingers twitched, and then slowly grew transparent. The moonlight caught the faint lift of his cheek as he smiled; the sight had her heart hurting for some reason. The rest of his hand grew invisible, turning into a smoky, blue substance much like the loose tendrils of a wisp in original form. Was he trying to change into one? Back into a wisp?

He was smiling now.

The hand flickered and turned solid once more. Soul gritted his teeth and clenched his fingers, slamming the fist down onto his covers before running his hands through his hair in jerky motions.

Swallowing the moisture that collected at her throat, Maka sank back down into the covers and closed her eyes.

The guilt kept her awake most of the night.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Maka stared down at the page, felt the warmed paper crinkle under the pressure of her palms. Her back had developed an ache, awkwardly crouched as she was in the empty metal tub with her legs pushed against her chest and her arms held tightly at her sides, but she ignored it. Her attention, for the moment, was elsewhere.

Every evening she attempted to read by the dim light of the moon, when only the disturbed snores of her father kept her company. Sometimes it worked, the words cooperating by some miracle to stay in one place long enough for her to read through the line, sometimes it didn't. But every night she tried, picking up whatever she could find that day to look through.

Lately, finding the time had been difficult. So that morning she had snuck into the bathroom while Soul slept with one of the flyers Blackstar had hanging around. With nowhere to sit, she had opted simply to lay down in the dry tub. From the pictures, the flyer appeared interesting, with pretty pink flowers edging one corner, but the words were beyond her comprehension.

"Maka!" The muffled call came from beyond the bathroom door; Maka shot it a cursory glance before focusing once more on the paper in her hands. It felt like her eyes crossed in her brain, worsening the harder she concentrated. But what else could she do but concentrate? Wiping her hands, Maka blinked her eyes, hoping futilely that the letters would remain in place.

When she looked next, they danced as hard as ever.

"Trying to read?"

Maka's head whipped around; she spotted Soul who stood just behind her, trying to catch a glimpse of the flyer she'd pressed to her chest upon his approach. "How did you get in here?"

He nodded to the open doorway. "You weren't answering so I thought I'd come in. You must not have heard me." His eyes moved to the page she held in a vise grip. "What are you reading?"

"Nothing." She felt awkward talking to him now, after what he'd said to her the day before, and after what she'd seen last night. The image of his defeated slouch still made uncomfortable pangs rise through her breast, making it hard to breathe.

A raised eyebrow and a quirk of his lips. "Really? It seemed to me you were reading a flyer advertising a four armed prostitute."

Maka's eyes shot wide open and jerked the flyer up to her face, the hidden silhouette of a woman now painfully obvious. With a disgusted noise, Maka threw away the paper and allowed her face to fall into her hands.

Laughing, Soul grabbed her arm and pulled her up out of the tub. She allowed him to grudgingly, taking the step over the rim to join him on the other side. "Come on," he said, letting her go and moving towards the exit. "We have company."

"Wait, Soul!" He looked down at her hand when she caught his arm, then his eyes rose to hers curiously. It took her a moment to collect the words. "I… I'm sorry. About turning you human without your consent. I know I don't act like it, but I am. I'm sorry. And even if it's only us against Tobias in the tournament," she swallowed, ears hot, "I'm glad it's you I'm fighting with."

He watched her silently, head tilted as if to gauge her sincerity. Then, finally, when she thought she might pass out from holding her breath, he answered with a genuine smile. "Thank you."

Maka breathed out, slumping her shoulders in relief. Soul snorted and shoved her towards the door. "Come on."

As she allowed him to push her, weak with relief (a weight within her lifted that she hadn't been aware she'd carried), his earlier words shot into her brain. Maka dug her heels into the floor and halted them, whirling around in his arms. "Wait, what do you mean company?"

* * *

><p>…<p>

Tsubaki waved pleasantly at them as they entered the room, sitting regally on a stool as Spirit wrestled with Kid, who had his hand wrapped tightly around the forearm of Blackstar. Angry screams of all three men were resounding throughout the apartment and Maka could only stare, dumbfounded, from the entrance of the bathroom. It was chaos.

"What are you all doing here?" Maka sputtered once she found the words on her tongue, disbelief colouring her tone. A shoe flung across the room, narrowly missing her head as it bounced off the wall to her left.

Everyone froze and turned to her, Spirit with his fingers in Kid's hair, Kid glaring at Blackstar, Blackstar making eyes up at Tsubaki, and Tsubaki still smiling pleasantly. A single beat passed before they all exploded in activity, detangling from one another and clambering up to talk with Maka.

"Why did you let these bozos into my house!?"

"He stole my money and isn't giving it back! I had eight copper in each pocket! Now I only have _seven _in my left!"

"Maka, darling, don't you think you should associate with more… reserved people?"

Holding her hands up, Maka took a step back, overwhelmed as they crowded her. "Okay," she muttered, then, louder, "_okay!_ Back off! Everyone sit down!"

They did so. Grudgingly.

Tsubaki, who was already sitting and so naturally remained where she was, asked Maka politely, "Are you feeling up to today's round?"

"I guess," Maka answered, she shifted on her feet.

"Yeah, are you ready to kick some ass? Knock old Tobias down a few pegs?" Blackstar butted in, as loud as ever as he collapsed back on the bed.

Maka pinched the bridge of her nose. "Aren't you supposed to be in jail?" she asked Blackstar, walking to the makeshift kitchen and leaning against the counter there. It creaked in protest under her weight.

"Got out on good behaviour." Blackstar winked, then turned with a genuine smile to Tsubaki. He nudged her foot, balanced carefully on the pegs of her stool, with his knee. "Although I may have had some inside persuasion." Tsubaki only smiled, a hidden twinkle in her eye as she blushed.

"Hm," Maka hummed, a carefully noncommittal sound on her part. From the corner of her eye she noticed Soul watching the two of them with interest. Filing that away in her mind to ponder on at a later date, Maka turned to Spirit next. As soon as she faced him, she felt instantly uncomfortable, unsure when their relationship had once been so easy. Clearing her throat, Maka crossed her arms and asked him, as confidently as she could, "And you? Why are you here?"

Spirit raised an eyebrow, like he couldn't believe she'd just asked him that. "I said I'd help you, didn't I?" he asked, disgruntled, then looked pointedly around the room before meeting her eyes with a conspiratorial look. "And if this lot is any indication, you certainly do need my help." He received several dirty looks.

"I see," Maka murmured, smiling softly at him before she could help herself. He returned it after a moment, nodding gruffly.

She looked to Kid next, who was trying to sneak up on Blackstar (busy making kissy faces with Tsubaki) and pinch from his pocket. "Kid? Why are you back?"

Kid pulled his hand away just as Blackstar turned sharply to glare at him. His plan ruined, the teenage boy straightened his shirt, large on his lanky frame, and made a grand display of regally clearing his throat. "I thought you could use my help. Which I can give for a price."

Blackstar snorted. "What could a tiny little runt like you contribute?" He winced when Tsubaki flicked his shoulder with her finger, a menacing look on her face. He rubbed his arm and looked wounded.

Kid ignored him, brushing the top of his shirt like it was an expensive business suit. "Soul told me yesterday that Tobias was causing you some issues, and I decided that you might like some help gaining an advantage over him. I have certain contacts that know about the tournament and the rounds in it."

Blackstar snorted. "Yeah? Like what?"

"Maybe not this coming round, since it's happening so soon." He looked at Maka. "But the next one will be important."

Maka narrowed her eyes at him, head tilted as she scrutinized the orphan. "In what way?"

He folded his arms. "I don't know. I still have to find out, and I need a way into the colosseum."

"There's a party tonight, a ball," Tsubaki cut in, and everyone turned to her. "They are holding it after this round for the guests—however participants also join. You can find a way in then, I'll help you in fact. Blackstar too."

"Wha—? Who said I had to help? I just got out of jail!" A single scathing look from Tsubaki and Blackstar was quiet. Rubbing the back of his head, he acquiesced with a shrug. "Or I could lend a hand, I suppose. With me you are all guaranteed to succeed, after all."

A beat of silence.

"That could work," Kid said. "If you offer me 10 percent of your winnings, my crew and I will help you by getting the information."

"Ten?" Maka repeated, incredulous. "Five and it's a deal."

"Eight."

"_Five._"

"Five and a handful of any gold you win."

Maka considered it a moment. "If I think it's worthy information, then fine," she said. "You have a deal."

They shook on it.

* * *

><p>…..<p>

Later that morning, early enough that the sun had only just risen above the great wall of the colosseum, the gladiators stretched freely in the arena—the crowds slowly meandering to their seats with eager shuffles. The air was fairly cool, much of the stadium still covered in shade.

"Ow!" Maka cried, feeling a pinch by her ribs. "Watch it!"

"Don't be such a child," Soul muttered behind her. "It has to be tight, and Tsubaki didn't tie it secure enough. You don't want a repeat of what happened last time, do you?"

Maka winced at the memory and grudgingly remained silent as Soul tightened the bodice of her armour. Her body jerked as he tugged on the strings, lacing them tight enough that the bulky clothing wouldn't hinder her fighting.

"There," Soul muttered, tying a double knot at the base of her spine. "That should hold." Pulling at the chest area that pressed against her lungs, Maka vaguely wondered if she even _could_ get it off.

She coughed and wiggled her arms to get used to the pressure. "How much longer?" Maka asked Soul, trying to touch her toes in the stiff suit. Her fingers bounced against her shins and stayed there. She was stuck.

Soul pulled her back upright by the shoulder and looked around them, screwing up his face in thought. "The sunlight has almost filled the ring. Ten minutes, maybe?"

Maka nodded. She was feeling pretty good about the upcoming round, the talk with her father a well needed confidence boost. With him at her back, acting more himself than he had in years, she felt that she could take on anyone. The mere reminder had her chest swelling with pride.

"Hey, do you…" Maka turned when Soul spoke, his voice sounding odd to her ears. He was watching the ground, a pinched set to his features. She frowned

"What?" asked Maka.

His eyes met hers. "Do you think Tsubaki and Blackstar have been intimate?"

Maka's face went immediately red, the colour burning up her neck to her cheeks and finally the very tips of her ears. She coughed, then continued coughing as the the word "intimate" swirled around in her mind until she was dizzy.

Soul's hand touched her back. "Are you okay?" he asked.

His touch only made it worse, and Maka had to concentrate on mundane things to regain her composure. Like trash, her dad's feet, Blackstar stealing underwear from Tobias every Tuesday. Finally she had regained enough of her senses to ask, somewhat hoarsely, "Why do you ask?"

Soul shrugged. "I don't know, I guess they seem to touch each other a lot. Why are you getting embarrassed?"

"_We_ touch a lot." It was out before Maka could censor herself and, if possible, her face burned even hotter.

Soul turned to her in surprise, eyes roving over her face. It was something he did often, and normally Maka didn't mind, but with their current subject of conversation, she found herself compelled to look away—and immediately wanted to kick herself for the wimpy action.

His words touched her ears then, soft and soothing as always, "I suppose."

Her eyes met his, shocked, but whatever understanding connected between them in that moment was shattered in the next when Soul stuffed something hard over her head.

"What the—" Maka sputtered, reaching up to grasp the object.

Soul slapped her hand aside. He then carefully pulled back the hair from her eyes and started to buckle up a strap beneath her chin. Maka shoved him away; felt with her fingers the hard cap on her head. "What are you doing?" She had to tilt her head back to see him under the rim. "Are you trying to make me wear _a helmet!?_"

"Yes." Soul moved in once again to snap the buckle when Maka side-stepped him. He frowned at her, arms crossing as he explained, "Your father gave it to me. He said you need to protect your head and I agree."

Whatever Maka would have said in retort was cut off as gongs rung, loud and echoing around the stadium, quieting the excited titters of the audience. All the competitors in the ring stopped what they were doing and looked up.

An official, standing in one of the VIP boxes, raised his hands dramatically and said into the microphone before him, loud and boisterous, "_Welcome!_"

The applause was raucous, so much so that Soul winced and covered his ears. Maka remained somewhat unaware, most sound muffled by the hulking helmet over her head. She pushed it back from her brows, trying to see better.

When the people calmed once more, the official, some sort of announcer by the brightly coloured robe he wore, spoke. "Welcome," he said again, "to the semi-finals! One round away to crowning our victor! Thank you for joining us on our humble planet. Drinks and refreshments will be available after the round, followed by further entertainment by some of our local musicians. In addition, to mark the midway point of our tournament, we will be hosting a ball tonight which you are all welcome to attend. Formal attire, of course, is required by all." He paused for effect, looking around at the crowd.

Maka finally managed to pop the helmet off, her hair flying around her face. She dodged Soul's hand when he would have intervened. He glared.

The announcer started up again. "Enough of that though, we are here to enjoy a more sophisticated sort of entertainment. Back to the tournament! In this magical test, sponsored by the folks at our neighboring planet's zoo, we will be testing the stamina of our fighters!

"Gladiators will have to battle the special shadow beasts found locally on the planet Kishin. The number will show up automatically on our scoreboards, which you may have noticed on the southern and northern sections of the ring, specifically added for this round. The three participants with the most kills will advance to our fourth and final round! In addition to this, the gladiator with the most kills will receive a special aid in the final round, which will increase their chances of winning by an estimated thirty percent!"

The crowd cheered again, letting out whoops and hollers into the air.

"And let us not forget our winner from last round, Evans, who has earned himself and his wisp, Wes, five additional points!"

Soul's head whipped to the side, eyes on the man waving to the crowd.

"Is he your brother?" Maka asked, remembering the words the other male had said to her in the maze. The announcer droned on behind them.

"Sort of," Soul answered, shifting on his feet. He looked uncomfortable.

"What do you mean _sort of_?"

He leaned in closer to her; spoke under his breath as he said, "I told you how I would sometimes attack the Colosseum? How I was isolated afterwards?"

Maka nodded. "Your great raids, yes you told me. Got you the name 'Soul Eater' or whatever. Stupid name, really."

He pointedly ignored the last part. "Well anyway, my brethren didn't take kindly to it."

"What? They like being taken?"

He shook his head, irritated. "No, but it's against our beliefs to begin fights with others. We're generally very peaceful and, when I wasn't, I was...ostracized. My 'brother' got taken about a year later." He looked to him now, almost wistful. "The other day was my first time seeing him since."

She grabbed his shoulder. "Wait, so you were just living on your own? Away from your family? I thought they'd all been killed!"

"No, they're still alive," he said. Then, probably guessing the direction she was taking with her words, pointedly added, "That doesn't mean I appreciate being taken forcefully from my home."

Once again, the announcer's words pulled them away. "And now! If our competitors would please fuse together with their wisps and join the centre."

Soul took her hand without question; it was warm and dry against her own.

Before he could do anything, Maka quickly tugged on his hand to get his attention. "Wait." When he looked at her in confusion, she said, "The black magic. It did that weird stuff last time, will it be a problem again?"

"No," he said it firmly. "I'll try and control it better. And if something goes wrong, I'll just distract you again."

Maka nodded, cheeks slightly pink at the reminder, and lowered her lashes. She breathed in deeply, the essence of him entering her, and breathed out through her nose. When her eyes opened, they were one. Power surged as it always did, sparking through her veins with pleasant tingles. She flexed her fingers; the twin sickle scythes emerged, dark and smoking, in her palm.

Maka took her place next to another warrior, who grunted at her as she stopped. Her response was a sharp-toothed grin.

"_Release the beasts!_"

The ring went quiet as the giant metal gate that faced them shook once before slowly rising from the ground. The metal was rusted a faded orange colour, like rusted copper, and the loud screech it gave off as it lifted was a testament to its age.

It thudded to a halt as it reached its peak, and a second hush fell over the stands, nothing but the hesitant shuffling of feet as everyone awaited the arrival of what lurked in the dark. Maka felt her heart pound against her lungs, like both were working far too hard in the wake of her anxiety. She swallowed the moisture that had collected in her mouth, eyes darting to the competitors around her. They, at least, looked just as nervous as she. Palms sweating and throat tightening, Maka faced the dark tunnel once more.

Her breath hitched as a mad skittering noise resounded, like the scraping of metal, only higher, and in the rhythm of shrieking laughter. It was loud and piercing, hitting all parts of the arena with a foreboding menace. All of the gladiators braced, Maka included, as it grew louder.

_Stay calm, Maka_, said Soul, close and warm in her mind. _But brace yourself._

She nodded, though he couldn't see her, finding comfort in his words. Maka willed her heart to slow, breathing out carefully.

A moment later they came. Bounding from the tunnel in sticky swarms of black, all at once, then gradually peeling off into separate forms and twitching bodies. The creatures collected at the gates, like infantile spiders crawling from the nest in a moving swarm. Her gorge rose at the sight.

There was a beat of silence in which no one breathed, the two opposing forces sizing each other up.

And then chaos erupted around the ring.

The inky black mass launched into the ring, smaller bodies detaching from the main form to attack nearby gladiators.

One leapt for her.

_Maka_, Soul cautioned.

She steeled herself, raising the twin weapons in her hands. "I see him."

The ebony creature hit her blades with unexpected force, pushing her back till her heels left indents in the sand. Its horned head moved through the 'x' in her scythes and it laughed its chilling cackle into her face. For a moment Maka was frozen, caught by the horror that faced her. Its features were completely black, but in the darkness she could make out the beady eyes, pointed teeth, and a nose that consisted of only two oval holes. Black sludge oozed from its jutting tongue as it reached below to lick up the side of her cheek. The smell was enough to make her eyes water.

_Maka! _The angry snarl in her head unfroze her limbs. She threw the creature off her blades, launching him to the ground at her feet. Crying out, Maka lifted her weapons and cut down on her opponent. It caught them once between its teeth, but the second assault successfully lobbed its head clean off.

She panted, chest rising and falling as she stared down at the felled beast. "See, I was completely fine," Maka said, out of breath.

_Of course you were. _

Maka wasn't so sure she liked Soul's new found sarcasm. They might have to have a talk about that. Putting that aside in her mind for later, Maka turned to the scores, the numbers rising steadily by every name. Every name but hers.

A cold line shivered up her spine. "Why is it still a zero...? We killed one..."

_Maka pay attention!_

She looked up, blocking in time as two more creatures launched themselves at her. Even as she fought, Maka kept looking at the scoreboard as her panic worsened. "Soul! We still have zero!"

_You knew going in that it would be rigged._

She stabbed one, kicked aside another with the heel of her boot. "Yeah but..." Her eyes darted again to her name.

How would they win?

A stray claw clipped her shoulder, slicing the leather clean off. Instincts had Maka jumping back before it could do further damage. _Maka!_ Soul sounded mad now, growling in her head. _Focus or I'm taking over!_

Grumbling, Maka told herself to concentrate on the creatures tittering around her. A black body attacked and she defended with one sword, pulled her arm back and impaled the creature with the other. It writhed for several beats before falling limp. She kicked it off her blade with her shoe.

Anger and frustration wrought from the situation insured the next was killed just as easily, handled with just as much disregard.

Maka's eyes strayed, before she could stop them, to the scoreboard. Her heart suddenly lurched in her chest, filling with hope.

"We have two!" she cried, grinning so suddenly and so widely that her cheeks hurt. "Soul, there's a two by my name!"

Her arm was wrenched upward without her consent to block a blow, then again to strike out with lethal force. Once the threat was dead, Soul slithered back in her mind. _What did I tell you!? _he snapped.

"Yes but look!" She dodged another claw, pointing with her weapon to the board unnecessarily. "We can win!"

_Yes, I see, _Soul said, though she could hear hints of amusement behind his exasperation. _Now can you start fighting so we can win this thing?_

So she did. With a vigour and skill that had her dancing through the bodies, the black blood spraying from her opponents as she tore their limbs at the bone. As she fought, her eyes would dart to the score every now and then (much to the ire of her wisp). Her number steadily rose, but still only counted every other kill.

The battle wore on and Maka's body weakened. By the time the final beast was slain she was ready to collapse to her knees. The bell rang three times and Maka felt Soul leave her body, the scythes in her hands disappearing with him as the magic dissipated from her veins. She felt his hand land on her back, familiar and warm, as she caught her breath.

"What's the score?" she panted.

"Why don't you check yourself?"

Her fingers curled in the sand. "I'm afraid to look," Maka said honestly.

Soul sank to his knees beside her and his finger lightly pinched the bottom of her chin. When he tilted her face upward, Maka's eyes found the scoreboards. The sight left her weak with relief and she sank against Soul with a shaky sigh. They hadn't won, not by a long shot, but they wouldn't be disqualified either.

"The final beasts have been slain!" The crowd cheered as the announcer's voice rang once again around the ring. "Our scores are in and it looks like Giriko and his wisp, Golem, will be taking the first place position! Joining them in the final round will be Evans and Wes, along with Maka and Soul! As a reward for their ranking, Giriko and Golem will receive a boon in the final round!"

Maka felt her heart pound wildly in her chest as a grin brightened her features—so large it showed off her teeth and made her cheeks hurt. Her chest bubbled with laughter and the sound escaped past her lips. He appeared taken aback at first, but soon returned her grin with a warm smile of his own. They'd done it.

"We did it," Maka gasped. She lunged at Soul, wrapping around him in a fierce hug. He groaned in her arms. "We did it!" she repeated, squeezing harder.

"Let me go," Soul wheezed, though he patted the small of her back—the only place he could reach with his arms fastened to his sides by Maka.

* * *

><p>….<p>

Blackstar, Kid, and Tsubaki were waiting for them on the other side of the gates. Tsubaki was the first to congratulate them, the smile huge on her face. "Well done, you two!" she cried, bouncing on her toes. "You fought so well! Maka, you were practically _dancing_ in the ring!"

Maka smiled warmly, wordlessly thanking the other woman.

"Nice work out there! You two actually made it to the finals." At the exuberant words, she turned to see Blackstar patting Soul's back with enough force that the wisp was jarred by each good natured slap. Soul didn't seem to know whether to be confused or mildly annoyed by the display—his face was a curious mixture of the two.

Maka laughed at them, and it felt good. She hadn't laughed in a long time.

"Maka." The clear voice of her father cut through all others, and her head immediately darted towards him in the crowd. He was standing just to the right of her, and was reaching for her with a hand. She grasped it in hers. "Can I speak with you?" Spirit asked her softly.

Swallowing thickly, Maka nodded—allowing herself to be pulled away from the excitement. Almost as an afterthought, she looked back and spotted Soul, whose head was turning this way and that as he busily searched the crowd. She caught his eye and offered a small wave, motioning to her father with a finger.

Soul looked concerned, she noted, as he frowned at her, and for a moment she wondered if he would stop her. Instead, he nodded in understanding and turned back to Blackstar.

Maka was tugged from the bustle into a more secluded side street. When they were finally alone, Spirit released Maka's arm. She rubbed it, hating the anxiety that swirled in her belly. "You came to watch—?"

Maka was engulfed in a hug, the familiar and comforting smell of smoke and crackling clay surrounding her. She was at first taken off guard, could only stand there as her father hugged her for the first time in years. Finally though, trembling, Maka returned the embrace. Tears came unbidden and she buried her face in his shoulder.

"I have someone I need to see soon, but I wanted to tell you that you fought well today," he told her, brushing her hair. "And I'm proud of you."

She pushed away, gauging the honesty in his expression. What she found made her smile. "Thanks, papa."

Spirit squeezed her shoulder and nodded. "I'll meet you back at that idiot's apartment," he said, then walked away after a small wave.

Maka sank down onto the wooden box behind her as she watched him leave, hunched over as he usually was, down the darkened path. A myriad of emotions coursed through her, and Maka wasn't sure specifically what she felt in that moment—or even if she felt anything at all. She was just… confused.

"Hey."

Maka looked up to find Soul standing before her, his eyes watching her carefully. In his hand he held two steaming sticks of jort, the sticky sauce draining down the balloon of meat onto his fingers. He held one out to her.

Smiling shyly at him, Maka took the stick and waited as he sat down on the place beside her. He licked his fingers and remained silent, waiting. She knew he was allowing her to speak first, to unload on him if she needed to.

Instead, she allowed herself to lean against him, her head lowering to rest against his shoulder. He stiffened beneath her a moment, but soon relaxed. He was warm, she noticed, and her lids suddenly felt heavy.

"I'm a bit tired," Maka admitted in the silence, closing her eyes. "I think I might just...rest a bit."

And so she did.

* * *

><p>….<p>

Spirit walked alone down the hallowed halls of the colosseum, his steps wary as his eyes darted around him, every slight moment catching his attention. It wasn't unusual behavior for the man, he'd been jumpy for many years now—leaping at the slightest brush of the wind or movement of shadows. Now however, he had a reason beyond phantom memories. The nightmares were tangible.

"You're late on your payments."

Spirit froze at the voice, turning around rapidly. "Tobias," he said, words clipped. "I thought I'd find you here."

"I assume you don't have the money?"

"You know I don't."

Tobias sighed, as if weary, though there was a fiendish twitch to his lips. "Yes, I do have first hand account of your gambling practice," he said, sounding pleased with himself. "You do so frequently visit my establishments—not to mention my girls you bed regularly."

Spirit remained silent, his eyes hard.

"However, a deal could be made between us. And the charges would be dropped."

Spirit scrutinized the other man, understandably wary. "Deal?" he repeated.

Tobias was quiet as he brushed out his robe, dusting off one sleeve primly with his fingers. When a sufficient silence had passed he said, his tone aristocratic, "Make your insufferable daughter drop out of the tournament—do this and I'll drop all existing charges. Her wisp and his black magic are causing me grief."

"I can't do that," Spirit said. His fists were clenched at his sides. "I won't."

"One might say you don't have a choice."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

"It won't take long, she just needs to get prepared for the party."

"What do you mean _prepared?_ What does she need to prepare for?"

The first thing Maka noticed when she woke, the warm midday sun shining through the dirt streaked window onto her face, were the rising voices of Soul and Tsubaki, echoing around her and ringing like a bell in her ear. It took her a moment to realize she lay tangled up in Blackstar's ratty bed, the worn sheets wrapped like a vice around her legs. The distinctly unpleasant smell was her first clue.

Still groggy, Maka pushed back the thin covers and slid her legs over the edge. Her muscles, she noticed, were sore from the earlier battle, and she took the time to carefully stretch out her limbs. As she did so, her eyes wandered absently around the room. How had she gotten there, anyway? Hadn't she been sitting with Soul?

"Morning, sunshine." Maka turned to see Blackstar perched on a stool by her bed. He was looking down at her blankly, pulling apart and stuffing his face with a stale-looking loaf of bread.

"How did I get here?" she asked, letting her arms fall to her sides after a final stretch.

Without bothering to answer her, Blackstar shoved the remaining loaf inside his mouth, stepped off the stool, and flopped down onto the bed behind her. He stretched languidly before collapsing with a deep sigh. "'Bout time you woke up," he mumbled, mouth full, "you were carving into my godly nap time."

"_Blackstar_."

"Huh? Oh, Soul carried your snoring ass back here," he said, nudging her with his elbow and grinning. "It was _very_ romantic."

Her face instantly flushed with heat, and before she could help it, she darted her head around to where Soul argued with Tsubaki in the kitchen. Releasing an inward breath of relief at the fact that the two continued bickering, seemingly oblivious to Blackstar's big mouth, Maka turned back to her "friend" and punched him hard in the shoulder. Blackstar just snickered into the bedsheets.

"Where's my father?" Maka asked, noticing his absence as the final remnants of sleep left her. "He said he'd meet us back here, didn't he?"

"Haven't seen him since after the match. Probably out with a woman or ten."

"Yeah," Maka muttered, feeling unsure for some reason. "Probably…"

A snort. "Don't look so glum. You should be happy, you're going to a _ball _tonight."

The made her pause, hand frozen midair. "_Ball_?" She clutched her hair, eyes wide. "I completely forgot about that! What am I going to do!?"

"Don't worry about it, those two are arguing over that now."

She looked at him in confusion. "What?" Blackstar nodded towards the kitchen and Maka followed his gaze to the bickering pair, concentrating on their conversation for the first time since she'd woken.

"It's a ball, Soul," Tsubaki said, sounding as close to anger as Maka had ever heard her. "At balls people get dressed up—it's normal."

Soul crossed his arms. "That's fine, but why can't I come? Why does she even have to go anywhere?" Tsubaki released a long suffering sigh, rolling her eyes in an exaggerated motion.

On queue, Blackstar loudly cleared his throat, causing Tsubaki and Soul to turn to face them. Tsubaki grinned when her eyes fell on Maka. "Oh good, you're awake!"

As Tsubaki rushed over, Maka spotted Soul staring blankly at her from over the other woman's shoulder. She ducked her head before she could think better of it, the familiar heat rushing up her neck and ears. After she'd fallen asleep against him, he'd been forced to carry her all the way back to Blackstar's house. The thought alone made her want to fall in a small hole beneath her feet.

Before she could wallow in her own mortification for too long, however, Tsubaki's hand was lifting her head up by the chin and soon all Maka could see was the bright and shining grin on the older woman's face. "You're going to come with me to get ready for the ball!"

"I still don't see why you can't do it here," Soul groused in the background.

Tsubaki's lips thinned in her wide smile. "Blackstar!"

The blue-haired male nodded from his place on the bed, stuffing another roll of bread in his mouth before walking past them. "M'on it," he grumbled and grabbed Soul by the upper arm, tugging him away.

"But—"

Blackstar kept pulling him away despite his protests, jerking him back by the collar of his shirt. "Come on, lover boy. She'll be fine."

Soul frowned, looking offended and completely out of place. "Excuse me? I don't—" he looked at Maka "—I don't—"

"Sure, we _all_ believe you."

"Let go of me!"

Tsubaki wrapped her arm around Maka's shoulder, gently tugging her out of the room. "Let's go," she said, allowing excitement to spill into her tone. "We have some girl talk to catch up on."

Which was was how Maka reluctantly found herself following after Tsubaki to her home so they could "get prepared." She was currently watching as the aristocratic woman, with long hair and perfect features, scaled the walls of her own building with the everyday ease of a common thief. Her movements were fluid and graceful, and Maka could only stare incredulously as she disappeared from sight, having easily reached her destination.

A moment later Tsubaki's dark head looked over the side of the railing expectantly. "What are you still doing down there? Hurry, before my father sees!"

Jolting from her stupor, Maka scrambled up the hard clay building, with much less speed and grace than Tsubaki, before stumbling over the side of the balcony. "How did you learn to climb so well?" Maka asked, accepting the hand that Tsubaki offered.

"I do this a lot," was the offhand and humble reply, said nonchalantly before she dropped the topic altogether. Her hands clasped and she grinned. "Now, about what you're going to wear."

"Wear?" Maka repeated, following Tsubaki into the room. It was a good size, and lavish, the sort of living space she had expected Tobias's daughter to live in. "Wear what?"

Tsubaki didn't reply at first, merely walked away to disappear within the large walk-in closet. A moment later, dress after dress was flung from the entrance, each followed by a grunted "nope" or a "_definitely_ not". After several minutes of this, Maka got bored and wandered over. Just when she opened her mouth to say something, Tsubaki burst from the closet with a green dress in hand—completely knocking Maka over in the process.

"I found the perfect one! ...Maka? Maka where did you—oh, there you are! What are you doing on the ground?"

* * *

><p>...<p>

An hour later, following much hair pulling and cursing (from both parties), Maka stared into the tarnished mirror with a great deal of uncertainty swirling within her chest. Her palms felt sweaty and her heart beat loudly in her ears.

She thought she might be… might be _pretty,_ now that her hair was washed and brushed—the dust and dirt of the day gone to show her clear, pale skin. The rouge Tsubaki had brushed on her lips added a feminine touch she had always seemed to lack. Would Soul think so?

Her fingers brushed the glass, the surface cool beneath her fingers. What would he say when he saw her? Would he be surprised...pleasantly even? She knew it was a silly thought, and part of her was embarrassed she'd even care about Soul's opinion. Still, she couldn't help but wonder, with her ears red and her hands clammy—couldn't help but hope.

"You look beautiful."

Maka looked at Tsubaki's reflection in the mirror, her glossy black hair a vision. Once she might have felt a twinge of envy at seeing those perfect locks, yet somehow—with her own hair pinned up and sparkling in the false light—those feelings were absent. So, instead of denying Tsubaki's compliment, she simply smiled and murmured, "Thank you."

Most of Maka's life she'd been spent around males, whether they be Blackstar, her father, or, more recently, Soul. It was strange, having a female companion to talk to, but... nice at the same time. Tsubaki was a pleasant person to be around, always smiling, always positive. She also smelled better than the other three.

Now, Tsubaki beamed back at her, squeezing her shoulders companionably. "We should get going soon," she said into the mirror. "They'll be wondering where we are."

The nervous flutters in Maka's chest increased at the gentle reminder but, as she looked fiercely into her reflection that could perhaps be pretty, she nodded firmly.

The dress she wore, the one borrowed at Tsubaki's enthusiastic insistence, moved like water around her legs as she stood. It was an emerald green, and it felt soft as it brushed against her skin—sort of how she'd imagined silk might feel like.

Tsubaki had also offered Maka a pair of bejeweled slippers, as well as several twinkling trinkets, but Maka had declined. The dress was enough. Besides, it wasn't like anyone would see her worn out sandals beneath the trail of her gown.

"Ready?" Tsubaki asked.

Taking a deep breath, Maka nodded.

* * *

><p>….<p>

The ball was set up in the centre of the colosseum ring. The usually dusty floor was covered in elegant rugs of deep violet, and the "roof" was made up of thousands of tiny lights, glowing brightly against the darkness of the pitch black sky. It was an enchanting setting, and Maka felt at once insecure.

The elegant dress of the people around her was intimidating, even though it wasn't anything she wasn't used to—she'd grown up seeing the lavish spectators that traveled across the galaxy to watch the tournament. The vibrant blues and purples and reds and greens were lovely—the jewels they wore around their fingers, necks, and wrists even more so. Maka's fingers itched with the ingrained urge to steal the adornments, but she smothered it.

When she faced forward, it was to be met with the realization that Tsubaki, who she'd been trailing like a lost puppy, was gone, the back of her fancy blue gown hidden among the mass of people.

Panic had her throat closing. She swallowed in a futile attempt to clear it before hesitantly calling out, "Uh, Tsu—oof!"

A body knocked into her without warning, shoving her forward. Normally Maka would have been able to easily right herself, but the the long ends of her dress had her tripping face first into a gelatinous mass. Whatever it was bounced her back and Maka was sent sprawling in a tangled heap of limbs on the ground.

Groaning, Maka rubbed her nose as she raised her head—and immediately froze. A bright red glob stared back down at her, it's "head" tilted slightly in question. Maka blinked dumbly. "Uh…"

She was pulled from her stupor when it suddenly moved towards her, sliding eerily along the ground, and Maka hastily shuffled back. When it continued without signs of stopping, she held a hand up in warning. "I'm okay...sir? I, uh no, I can get up on my own, thank you."

She pushed herself up, smiling unsurely at the glob. When it gestured towards her again, the gelatin-like hands completely see through, Maka gave a weak smile and took another step back, hands raised. "No really, I'm—"

"**_Znngckjya!_**"

Maka whirled around, gasping at the face of the black, insect-like _thing _staring down at her. It's pincers widened as it dove for her; Maka clenched a fist and moved quickly into a defensive stance. Just as she was about to shove her knuckles into the giant bug-eye, someone grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her back.

"Prince Xorb! Sir Vizc! How absolutely delightful to see you both!" Tsubaki's twinkling voice resounded in Maka's ear and she relaxed her stance. The momentary calm didn't stop her eyes from darting frantically between the red blob and the giant insect, however.

The insect took a step forward and Maka flinched at the angry, guttural noise that left its mouth. Tsubaki just laughed. "Oh Xorb, you were always so dramatic. Maka didn't mean to step on your foot, she's just clumsy. And Vizc! You look fantastic, how are your wife and kids?"

"_Floobigrub,"_ the red blob blubbered, bubbles floating around its body as it spoke.

"That's wonderful! We'll have to catch up later, but I need to make my rounds—you gentlemen know how it is. _Kxnckjya!_ _Grublib!_"

After a brief wave, Tsubaki led Maka away from the two aliens. "You certainly are clumsy, you almost punched out the sovereign prince of the planet with the greatest army this galaxy his ever seen." Her voice lowered, turned teasing, as she added "Would've been _quite_ a mess." She didn't sound mad though, amusement lacing through her words.

"Are you sure I should be here?" Maka asked, looking up anxiously at Tsubaki, whose face was set in a soft glow from the ethereal lighting. Her feet shuffled. "Everyone looks so..._ rich_."

Tsubaki smiled, squeezing her shoulder one last time before letting her go. "You'll do fine, Maka. These are just ordinary people—nothing compared to the gladiators you fight in the ring."

"I think I'll take the gladiators over this," Maka muttered quietly. Still, with a deep and calming breath, Maka allowed Tsubaki to pull her further into the fray of people. "How are you so at ease here?" she wondered.

"I'll tell you a secret," Tsubaki said, smiling at Maka. "I'm terrified out of my mind. My legs may not be shaking and my palms aren't sweating, but even after years and years of this, the butterflies are still flying around my belly. You learn to wear a mask to hide your fears."

"Fear? What are you afraid of?"

Tsubaki waved her hand absently. "Oh the usual, scary people, overwhelming crowds—hello, Frank! You should try the sorbet, it is especially delightful this year! Yes, you too!" As soon as the thin man, Frank, walked past them, Tsubaki's gaze returned to Maka and continued, "The death threats are also a bit nerve-wracking, the expectations… and of course… my father..." Her words trailed off.

Maka frowned. "Your father?" She paused as Tsubaki greeted a scaled woman and waited impatiently for them to finish talking. When they parted, Maka hurried to ask, "Why are you afraid of your father?" Her tone took a warning edge. "Has he done something to you?"

Sighing, Tsubaki turned away. Her mouth opened, as if to reply, but it closed soon after. "Nothing," Tsubaki said after a moment, the same smile she'd worn all night plastered once again on her face.

"But—"

Her back hit another body, and visions of red blobs and giant insect people had her stiffening with a breathless squeak. Warm hands clasped her shoulders, steadying her, and Maka knew an instant later who stood behind her. Unconsciously, she relaxed.

And suddenly Blackstar was there too, as loud and boisterous as ever. "There you guys are!" Blackstar brushed by Maka, knocking her shoulder on his way to greet Tsubaki.

Which he did. Thoroughly. On the mouth.

Maka tilted her head back to face Soul, who stood calmly behind her as he watched the spectacle with the other startled guests. She felt instantly better knowing he was there, calmer somehow.

Maka frowned. She barely knew him. He _shouldn't_ put her at ease.

But… he _did_, she realized then as his red eyes darted down to her own, as if sensing the intensity of her gaze. She felt completely comfortable and safe near him. Maka's heart pounded in her chest and she laid a hand over it, feeling breathless.

And like the realization was a catalyst, Soul became all the more real in her mind. The small space he'd occupied within her expanded, pushing against her mind until they melded further. When the brief episode was over, Maka blinked away the tears from her eyes, overwhelmed by the sensations.

Gently, so as not to hurt his feelings—what the _heck_ was wrong with her!?—Maka pulled out of his hold.

"Maka?" The voice cut through the mist of her mind like a beacon, and Maka turned towards it dumbly. It was Soul, who looked vaguely concerned as he watched her, one pale brow raised. She gave a weak smile, hurriedly wiping her eyes with a sniff.

"It's nothing…" she assured, then smiled brightly, taking in his attire for the first time. "You look good." And he did, the dark clothing he wore fit him well. "Whose clothes are those?"

He looked down and shrugged, like he didn't much care what he wore. "I'm not sure. Blackstar stole them from somewhere."

Maka nodded, not sure why she'd expected anything else. "So," she started, putting on a smile, "what do you think?" She spread her arms expectantly.

Soul frowned, looking bored. "What do I think about what?"

Her smile died as Maka dropped her arms to her sides, giving him a flat look. "Really?" she asked. At his blank look she threw her hands up. "Why do I even bother?"

"Where are you going?" he asked when she turned away from him. She hated the feeling of disappointment in her chest. What had she even expected? That he'd be blown away by her beauty?

"To get punch," she bit out with a quick glare over her shoulder. From the short glance, she could tell he appeared genuinely confused, which made the sickening twist in her chest even worse. Why did she even care? She shouldn't.

She didn't.

With a quiet sigh, Maka broke their gaze and continued through the throng of bodies, nodding and smiling every now and then when someone would recognize her.

Soul followed after her. "Where are you really going?" she heard him ask before he grabbed her arm, halting her. Maka wanted to lash out at the touch, no matter how irrational she knew the urge to be. Breathing through her nose, she smothered the inclination. "You're upset for some reason, upset with me. Why?"

"I'm not upset," she grunted, wishing it were true. Soul obviously didn't believe her words either—the skeptical glance he gave her causing the blood to rush up her neck and heat her cheeks. With a quiet and stubborn huff, Maka pulled her arm from his grip and continued her way through the crowd, muttering, "Whatever."

Again, Soul followed, his smooth voice loud in her ear despite the outside noise. "I can tell something's wrong, you know. I feel it." Maka just grunted.

"Is it because I didn't comment on your dress? I don't see what the big deal is anyway—"

She whirled around. "Don't be ridiculous, I couldn't care less what you think of what I'm _wearing_." _Lies, _she thought with a sickening twist of her gut. "And furthermore—"

It was pure chance that she happened to look over Soul's shoulder at that time, her muscles freezing as she saw the laughing mug of Giriko, chatting up a pale-faced woman near the drink table. She was a cyborg, but the metal half of her face couldn't hide the grimace.

"What is it?" Soul asked curiously, and began to turn his head, but Maka reached out and grabbed his face, halting him.

"Shh! Don't—" As if he could feel her gaze, Giriko's head turned and he spotted her. "_Shit_. We have to get out of here."

"What? Why?"

"Hurry!" Turning on her heel, Maka grabbed Soul's arm and jerked him in the opposite direction.

As he went without protest, Maka assumed he was probably feeling an echo of the rising panic in her belly. "What is it?" he asked as she led him through the bodies, turning his head to try and spot what had spooked her.

"_Giriko_," Maka grunted.

Soul's eyes narrowed, then widened in realization. "The bet. You lost—you'll have to..."

"_I am aware,_" Maka hissed, turning to look back over her shoulder. Giriko was where she'd last seen him, but he appeared to be looking for someone, his head craned and scanning the crowd. Hopefully that someone wasn't her—though she wouldn't bet on it.

"He's probably forgotten," Soul protested, though even he didn't sound like he believed his own words.

Maka's eyes met Soul's. "Do you really think he'd just _forget? _Let me off with a pat on the back? Personally, I don't see him as the charitable sort."

Soul growled deep in his throat, but didn't argue. Instead he grabbed her hand, lacing their fingers. "Come on," he said, leading her towards one of the holding gates for the gladiators. Usually bolted shut, it was left open for use as an extra door into the ring.

As the two slipped wordlessly through the door, sparing only a brief backward glance at their pursuer, Blackstar stood watching at a distance. A sneaky smiled curved his lips.

* * *

><p>….<p>

Kid sighed, systematically scanning the ring-turned-ballroom. The two-toned hair that usually flopped over his forehead was slicked back tonight, and the dark clothes he wore lacked their usual dirt and worn appearance. Sucking on his teeth, he dug around in his pocket and pulled out a small timepiece—one he'd pilfered not ten minutes before—and clucked his tongue with impatient annoyance. "Where are they?" he muttered under his breath to no one in particular.

From beside the teenager a tall blonde rolled her eyes, her gold earrings twinkling in the dim light. "Do we have to leave?" she asked. "I'd rather stay here and enjoy the party." She smiled and waved at a passing man, his fine clothing hinting at royalty. She glared when he kept walking—faster than he had been before he spotted her leering gaze.

A loud snort resounded from another blonde beside the first, one with significantly less poise. She looked much like the other, with bright blue eyes and pale, pale skin—but the wildness in her stare was unique in its spine-tingling intensity. "That guy wouldn't be able to keep you entertained for a second. You just want his money."

An indignant sniff. "Is money such a bad thing?"

"Liz, Patti, cut it out," said Kid. He then turned his head, faced the blue haired man who was leaning against the wall beside them with crossed arms, murmuring under his breath to the curvy daughter of Tobias. "Hey!" Blackstar turned his head towards Kid, tilting it slightly in question. "Where are they?"

In response, Blackstar just grinned—a secret sort of smile. He walked towards Kid and shrugged. "Who knows?" he said, though his tone and face suggested very much that _he_ knew. He slapped his hands, rubbing them together. "In any case, why don't we just leave without them? They aren't a part of the plan anyways."

Kid frowned, eyes shifting from Blackstar to Tsubaki and back again. "Yes, but we're getting the information _for_ them."

Blackstar shrugged. "It's cool, Maka is a surprisingly unreliable woman. We wouldn't want her help anyway."

"What? I got an entirely different impression—"

Blackstar grabbed Kid's shoulders and turned him away from the ball, leading him purposefully towards the exit. In his ear, Blackstar muttered conspiratorially, "Don't be deceived by her childlike eyes and chubby cheeks—she is quite the lazy, hard-hearted little demon."

Blackstar nodded at Tsubaki to follow as they passed her, to which she responded with a long roll of her eyes and quirk of her lips. Still, she followed—the two blondes trailing closely behind, bickering quietly amongst themselves.

"You do realize I know what you are spouting is complete bullshit."

"_Yep_."

* * *

><p>….<p>

The hallway they walked through was dark and dank, though the stone felt warm against her flesh as she brushed her fingers along the dust coated walls. The further they traveled down the labyrinthine path, with no exit in sight, the more Maka began second guessing the wisdom of leaving the party. "We should go back," she told Soul, who walked a short distance in front of her. A small ball of light was lit in his hand, illuminating their way. "We're suppose to be helping Kid get the information for us."

"Do you _want_ to expose yourself to Giriko?"

She frowned, disgruntled. "Of course not. I just think we should be helping them."

"It's fine, they can handle it without us—we _are _paying them, after all. For now, though," Soul turned to her, "why don't you tell me why you're being so difficult?"

And just like that he had her blood boiling. "Difficult!?" she seethed.

"Yes. Why are you so upset?"

"I told you _I'm not_."

A smirk. "You see? Difficult."

Maka halted, teeth gritted, eyes on the ground as her fingers clenched into tight fists. She had the sudden urge to punch something—preferably something like Soul's stupid face. When she looked up, it was to see that Soul had also halted, and was waiting patiently for her to respond.

She took a deep breath through her nose, before shakily releasing it. "You didn't say anything about how I look tonight." Her eyes raised heavenward and she felt her cheeks heat as she spoke—not quite sure why she was even bothering to tell him this.

"You said that wasn't it when I asked."

Maka folded her arms across her chest stubbornly. "Yeah, well... it is."

A sigh from the wisp ahead of her. "Should I have?" he asked, sounding genuinely curious. "Is it a custom?"

Maka released an aggravated huff. "No, you don't _have _to say it."

It was Soul's turn to appear frustrated. "Then what's the issue? I don't understand."

Rubbing at her forehead with the back of her thumb, Maka closed her eyes. She felt embarrassed talking to him like this, about things that shouldn't matter and yet _did. _It also didn't escape her that she was dangerously close to revealing things—emotions—she had scarcely allowed _herself_ to admit.

Despite the danger such a confession might pose, Maka looked directly into the eyes of her partner, willing him to see, to understand without her having to say it out right. "You shouldn't have to say it," she explained. "You should _want_ to."

At first he appeared confused, but Maka saw the instant the realization struck. It was apparent in the smoothing of his gently furrowed brows, and the widening of his eyes. Her chest twisted at the sight, and she looked away.

"And why would I want to, Maka?" It wasn't malicious, wasn't meant to goad her. Instead the question seemed to be a challenge. He stepped closer, head tilted as he attempted to catch her eye.

"Stop it," she hissed through her teeth, face heated. "You're being cruel on purpose."

"Tell me." He'd said it more softly this time, his tone gentle and coaxing.

Her mouth opened—though whether to tell him the truth or to tell him to sod off, she wasn't quite sure. For a moment she simply stood there, staring at him dumbly. He was waiting, red eyes gazing back at her intently, shimmering in the faint light he held in his hand.

He obviously predicted an admission from her, if the expectant look on his face was anything to go by. Uncertainty coursed through her as she watched him back, her chest tight and her knees week. She felt like a child, scared of her own emotions and unsure of how to deal with them—or if she even should. What would change if she told him, or would anything even change at all?

Seemingly of their own accord, her hands raised, clumsily, to touch his face. Maka swallowed thickly. She didn't know what she was doing, moving on instinct alone as her trembling fingers traced his jaw. If she thought of how scared she was, how unsure of her own future, she would freeze up—so she didn't let herself.

Before the weight of the world could catch up to her, Maka pulled Soul down and mashed her lips to his with all the fever and passion she could muster.

Maka had never been kissed before, had never felt the inclination to do so despite a passing fancy here and there. Interest aside, it never looked particularly appealing to her, in the few times she'd caught her father sucking at the face of one of his lady friends.

So when she met Soul's lips with her own, she wasn't expecting much. Certainly not the explosive feeling that erupted inside her. It had started off normal at first, his lips warm, and slightly wet. The kiss was pleasant, if not a bit painful when she'd first bumped their faces together, and Maka inwardly decided that it was something she perhaps wouldn't mind doing on a regular basis. She was so preoccupied with her thoughts and the sensation of his lips, that Maka hadn't noticed that Soul had frozen against her.

She noticed when he unfroze, however.

Suddenly and without warning the pleasant kiss turned fiery, Soul's hands extinguishing the light he'd held to move and wrap around her in a tight embrace.

She gasped into his mouth as heat bundled at the base of her belly, rising up her navel to curl around in a taut ball in her chest. She had trouble breathing with the need to be closer to him. Hands moved up her back to clutch the strands of her hair, desperate and fevered.

He was devouring her, it was the only way she could think to describe it, and she was loving it. Maka sank against him, drunk on his taste and his scent, seduced by the feel of his body wrapped around hers. Her head swam.

Only when her lungs burned for want of air did Maka finally pull away, their breath mingling as Soul rested his forehead against her own. Swallowing thickly, Maka closed her eyes. Soul's shaky fingers rose to trace the outline of her jaw, the tip of her nose, the swollen skin of her lips.

"Does that answer your question?" she asked breathlessly against his fingers, a teasing smile on her lips.

In the faint light she saw his cheeks curve, and Soul laughed weakly.

* * *

><p>….<p>

"_Juliet, I swear it was just a one time thing!_" Blackstar shouted in the distance.

"_Enough John! I saw you look at that girl yesterday! I know there's more, I know...about the affair_!" Patti's answering call was just as echoing, ringing down the hall to where Liz stood watch outside Tobias's door. She was resting against the jam, one hand open and producing the magic needed to keep the hidden entrance open. With the other she held a gun aimed at any guard that might walk around the corner.

"Sounds like things are going good," Liz said, eyes watching the open hallway. Tsubaki stood at the curve roughly 20 metres away, a smile on her lips. "I can only imagine what those fools look like right now. Tsubaki seems to be enjoying the display."

"As long as they keep the guards distracted."

"_But Juliet! I thought you liked that threesome!"_

"We better get paid well for this," Liz muttered, checking her watch periodically whilst tapping her foot impatiently. She turned to look at her "boss", who had his head stuck in one of the many drawers of Tobias's great desk. "And when I say well, I mean I want to be rolling in it."

"Well, Elizabeth," the words were muffled as Kid spoke, still shuffling through his findings, "if things go according to plan, and our little misfit wins this tournament, we will be."

"That's a big if," Liz reminded carefully. "Why are we taking such a big risk anyway? Do you really think such a tiny girl could win?"

"I do."

"But why?"

Kid shrugged. "I have a hunch. Besides, she has pluck."

Liz snorted. "Pluck? Since when is pluck enough to win a tournament like this one?"

The drawer slammed shut as Kid stood up from his crouched position, dusting off his pants carefully. At Liz's raised brow he held up a small pile of papers with a smile. "Since she has us to cheat for her."

The papers slammed on the desk as Kid began to quickly leaf through them. The longer he did so, the wider his eyes grew. His smile was huge when he said, "Well now, I knew Tobias was corrupt, but I never knew it was to such an extent."

Liz eyed him curiously. "What is it?"

Kid returned the papers to their original place and walked back towards Liz. "I'll tell you later, we've been here long enough."

"But we have what we needed?"

Kid grinned evilly. "We have more. Quick, give the others the signal. The faster we get out of here the better."

* * *

><p>…<p>

The two men faced each other beneath the waning moons, one grim faced and bloody, the other smirking—drunk on his own cruel intentions. It was a mad sort of cruelty, one that oozed from his pores and appeared on his face in a smile that cut his cheeks and showed the whites of his eyes.

"Bet you never thought this was how you'd end up, eh, Albarn?" one man spat, the gun in his hand smoking from the barrel. He cocked it for the second time that night and aimed. "Dyin' alone in a piss stained street."

Spirit coughed, the blood spraying from his lips as he choked. He looked broken, lying there with his back to the wall, blood draining out his veins. His eyes closed, lids trembling shut under the age old stars and twinkling lights.

He was now mostly numb to the pain.

"Last chance. Will you convince your daughter to forfeit? Save her from her death?"

Spirit laughed, "If I wasn't so sure it was impossible, I'd think you were scared."

Tobias snarled.

"She'll beat you," Spirit continued with his final breath, pausing to release a wheezing cough, "she'll win. No matter what you want, no matter what I haven't done or told her. I know why you don't like black magic, why it keeps you up at night shaking like the weak fool you are. It's why you hate that wisp so much. His magic cancels out your own—you can't defeat it… you _can't _win."

Tobias remained still. "We'll see," he said, and soundly pulled the trigger.

The bullet was loud in the night and sent birds flying overhead.

Spirit left the world with the name of his wisp on his lips.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Kid examined the carefully sculpted crystal, the amber liquid inside splashing against the chunks of ice with an aristocratic tinkle. Flickering light from the ornate fireplace reflected off the cubes, distorting the flames in a beautiful display that drew the eye.

"Ice," he began carefully, tilting his hand this way and that to get a better view. With a curt smile, Kid turned his head to the frowning man to his left. "Difficult to obtain on such a dry planet, is it not?"

Tobias adjusted himself, folding the jewel-toned fabric over his arm regally. He appeared uncomfortable in the heat, sweat running off his fat cheeks. When he noticed Kid looking, his lips twitched upward in what perhaps was initially meant to be a smile, but never made it past a cringe. "Yes, well," Tobias coughed, beady eyes watching his guest intently, "it isn't every day the sovereign prince of a neighbouring planet drops by for a visit, now is it?"

Kid laughed lightly and took a sip. "Certainly not."

Tobias watched him, lips pressed together thinly and eyes narrowed. "What was it you wanted to talk about?"

"I just wanted to express my pleasure with this year's gladiator tournament," Kid stated. "It's so _refreshing_, don't you think, that a woman is participating? I am very much a child of my mother, you see. She was such an inspiration growing up. The female reminds me a bit of her."

"I see, then you will be rooting for her," Tobias remarked, teeth grinding as he spoke.

Kid's expression was carefully pleasant. "Most definitely."

"Hm." Tobias looked Kid up and down shrewdly, his fingers tapping a rhythm on his knees. "What did you say your name was?"

"You may call me Nino," Kid said, inclining his head.

A stiff nod from Tobias. "If you insist. However, you see, the young gladiator you speak of has had a tragic loss in the family. Her father, if I'm not mistaken." He clucked his tongue, a calculated noise of just the right amount of sympathy. "With the female disposition being so fragile, it wouldn't surprise me if she didn't drop out."

"Oh, she seems like a strong girl to me. I'm sure she can handle it," Kid answered, smiling stiffly. After a moment he coughed and stood, brushing off his black clothing. "Well, if you'll excuse me, I need to speak with my attendant. Health issues, and all that. Do thank Tsubaki for introducing us, she was such a delight when we met at the party."

Tobias nodded, humming softly. As Kid left the room, his gaze never left his back.

"Watch him," he told his guard, who stood at attention behind his throne. "Something's off about him."

* * *

><p>….<p>

"Did he fall for it?" Liz whispered as Kid emerged from the floral scented room, his "royal" robes swaying behind him. She had been waiting just outside his office door, poised as his "servant".

Rather than stop, Kid grabbed her arm and tugged her along with him, walking briskly down the stone hallway. "I'm not sure," Kid muttered, looking behind them jerkily. "At least, not entirely. We have to hurry. I think he's going to have me followed."

"Did it work, though?" she hissed back, easily keeping up as they rushed through the corridor.

Kid nodded. "Yes. He won't kill her now, not when he has the slightest doubt in his mind that I'm telling the truth."

She breathed out in relief, sagging to the point that Kid had to jerk her upright when she tripped. "Pay attention," he snapped.

"Yeah, yeah. Now we just have to make sure she fights. Do you think she will?"

"I do," Kid replied, though he didn't sound entirely sure himself. "For all our sakes, she has to."

"Has Soul found her yet? She ran out pretty fast when she saw the body."

A heavy sigh. "Not since last I heard. He's her wisp though. If anyone can find her, it's him."

* * *

><p>…..<p>

The alcohol tasted sour on her tongue, but still she drank, swallowing the bitter liquid in great gulps as she chased away the memories of the past twenty-four hours. Her mind felt fuzzy and, though the smells permeating the air were painfully familiar, the tears had long since dried against her skin.

The ale must be doing its job.

Eyes squeezed shut, Maka took another swig from her father's bottle—pressing her lips together and tilting her head back against the wall as the burn warmed her throat and chest. In the back of her haze filled mind, she noticed the door creak open beside her.

"So this is where you've been..." Her eyes peeled open slowly, and she looked up as Soul crouched down next to her. He cupped her cheek and carefully turned her head towards him, brushing her hair back from her face with gentle fingers. Had he touched her like this yesterday, with such tender reverence, Maka would have cherished the moment with all the embarrassed pleasure she could muster. As it was, her dull eyes just stared straight ahead, dead to the world around her. "Maka_, look at me_," Soul said.

She ignored him and went to take another swig from the bottle. Before the rim could touch her lips, however, it was pulled from her fingers. "Hey!" she protested, diving after the alcohol only to have an arm catch her around the waist.

"Are you drinking alcohol?" Soul asked incredulously, holding it away from her when she lunged for it. "You told me you hate this stuff."

"Shut up," Maka muttered bitterly. "You don't know anything. Give it back."

Soul sighed, rubbing at his face wearily. "Come on," he murmured in a quiet voice, lifting her limp body off the ground with some difficulty. "Let's get you to bed." Maka slumped uselessly against him, head falling back—which would have toppled them both over had Soul not quickly shifted her body in his arms and caught her neck with one hand.

Maka groaned in his hold. She didn't want to move. She didn't want to do anything. Except drink. Where was her booze? "Let me go!" she yelled, pushing against Soul's chest. "I want to be alone." She tore herself free and glared at him.

"You're drunk," Soul accused. "You aren't thinking straight—go to bed before you hurt yourself."

"I haven't even had a third of the bottle," Maka grated through her teeth, feeling the tears pushing at her eyes once more despite her best efforts. She blinked them away miserably. "I'm perfectly fine, now give it back to me."

Soul sighed. "I know you're hurting, Maka—"

"You don't know anything!" Maka spat.

"—But you're just letting him win. Can't you see this is what Tobias wants?" Soul raised his hands in a placating gesture. "You have to fight it, Maka—use the pain as a weapon."

Maka balled her hands into fists as she snarled at him, her nails pressing half moons into her palms. "You don't know anything," she panted, gasping through tears that drained down her face. "You aren't even human!"

Soul crossed his arms, eyebrow raised. "Is that supposed to offend me?"

"You're such a jackass! I wished I'd never partnered with you!" The words were said in the heat of the moment, and she could see the flash of hurt in his eyes before Soul quickly concealed it. She wanted to take it back, but the stubborn hurt in her heart kept her lips tightly sealed.

"You need to get over yourself." Soul said each word carefully, his red eyes never leaving her own. "Talk to me when you aren't full of your own selfishness."

Maka growled, and before Soul could reach the door to their room, she jumped on his back. "You—" she punched him "—are such a stupid—" pulled his hair "—idiotic—" jammed her heel into his solar plexus "—jackass!"

Soul reached around himself, grabbed the fabric at her back, and threw her over his head onto the mattress. "You crazy—" She landed on her feet and jumped back at him, cutting his curse off as she landed in his arms. Ready this time, he caught her, twisted, and slammed her back against the wall. "What do you want from me!?" he shouted at her.

Maka's eyes roamed over his face—saw his anger and stress and _weariness_—and any desire to continue fighting left her. Her limbs fell limp, her body only held up now by her partner. Her hands found his face, and she was met with a spark of surprise as she looked into his eyes. Her forehead leaned down to rest against his, and from there the tears fell silently.

Soul sighed. He turned them around so it was his back pressed against the wall and he slowly slid them both down to the floor. Maka pulled back and they stared at each other silently, unspoken words passing between them in the quiet.

He moved then to press a single kiss to her brow, so gently that her heart hurt from the contact. Her eyes had closed to savour the touch, but when he pulled back she opened them again, and the hurt in her chest increased even more from the tenderness she saw there in his eyes.

Maka just wanted to forget. Everything. Just for tonight.

In that moment she could do nothing but kiss him, and so she did—clumsily and passionately she pressed her lips to his. Maka felt him jerk beneath her and, scared he would try and push her off, she clamped her thighs tighter around his hips. His lips felt soft and warm against her own, and she relished the sensation, eager and willing to lose herself in it.

His hands, hesitant at first, slowly slipped beneath her shirt and rose up to brush against the skin of her back. The feel of his warm hands sent chills up her spine as she pressed further into him—eliciting a groan from Soul.

Maka sank against him, drunk on his taste and his scent, seduced by the feel of his body beneath hers. Her head swam—whether from Soul or the alcohol, she didn't know.

All the while, her tears continued to fall. When one fell against Soul's hand, he broke off their kiss and gently pushed her back. His thumb brushed her cheek and he sighed. "Come on," Soul murmured into her hair as he lifted her up off the ground. He walked to the bed and gently laid her down, stuffing her arms and legs beneath the covers.

He sat down in a seat beside the bed, resting his elbows on his knees. "Sleep it off," he told her quietly in the darkness.

Maka covered her face with her hands and softly cried.

* * *

><p>…..<p>

When next she woke, the sun a warm glow on her face, she became instantly aware of the damp cloth covering her eyes—and the excruciating headache that split through her brain. With a muffled groan, Maka raised her hand to pull off the cloth.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," a voice said, distractedly—Soul's, she realized. Out of pure spite, Maka tugged her hand away from his gentle grip and pulled off the cloth anyway.

Only to immediately regret this decision as the light burned into her eyes, making the ache in her head that much worse. Clutching her head, she screeched, "_Stupid windows!_"

"Told you," Soul mumbled and Maka peaked through her fingers to glare at him.

An aggravated sigh. "Would you just leave me alone?" she grumbled, curling up on her side, hands covering her eyes. She just wanted to forget everything, the loss all-consuming. The hole in her chest slowly ate at her.

"See, I would, but some crazy girl _bound_ me to her." Maka turned to face him with a snarl just as Soul smirked. "Funny how that works out, huh?"

He was sitting beside her on the bed, looking down at her as she lay curled in a pathetic ball. She wanted to push him away, knock him off the bed with her foot and ignore all the horrible things going on in her life.

Just as she sneakily lifted her leg from beneath the ragged covers, she heard the gentle turning of a page. It was a noise she'd recognize anywhere, one she coveted within the very depths of her heart. She regarded it with a mixture of the deepest yearning, the greatest heartache, and the purest fondness.

Almost hesitantly, Maka emerged from her hiding, and slowly moved to peer over her partner's shoulder. He must have known she was there, there simply wasn't any possibility that he didn't, but his eyes remained trained on the worn book in his hands.

It was old, just as Maka remembered it, and she knew without touching it that the pages would be soft and supple. She knew every tear by heart, every indentation and perfect imperfection. Without thinking, Maka sank down against Soul's back, her chin carefully balanced on his shoulder.

"This is the fairy tail my father read to me when I was a child. It was my favourite," she murmured, pressing closer to get a better look. "Where did you find it?"

"On your father's side table—looked like he'd been reading through it." He turned the page, and the sound resonated through her chest like a memory.

"Papa was?" She reached for it, but he moved it away. "Hey!"

"Quiet, I'm reading," Soul admonished. "Although, I'm surprised something like this would appeal to you."

She glared as best she could from her angle. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Another page flipped. "It's very whimsical, with unlikely scenarios and situations. I'd assume you would appreciate something more practical."

Maka huffed, sitting back to cross her arms haughtily. Her nose tilted straight up in the air as she told him, "I was a child, of course I'd like something like this then. It doesn't mean I wouldn't like something more practical now. I would read grand novels, of the most _sophisticated_ nature if I could."

"Hm." The noise was non-committal, amused, and Maka found herself flushing for some reason. After a moment, she cautiously returned to her previous position. His back felt warm against her front, and before she could stop herself her arms rose to carefully rest on his shoulders.

"Read aloud," Maka whispered into the cloth of his shirt, a quiet and vulnerable plea. As she waited to see what he would do, she held her breath, knowing he was just as likely to ignore her as he was to do as she'd asked. To her relief though, his warm, soothing voice began speaking the familiar tale without question.

"And so the prince, with only the slightest of hesitations, lifted the glimmering frog from the pond. 'You are awfully hideous,' said he, a grimace on his face not unlike the one he'd given his mother when she'd prodded him to eat his vegetables earlier that morning. 'And I am loathe to touch your lips to mine, no matter the promises you offer.'"

Maka, who had settled more comfortably against Soul, her cheek resting against the warmth of his back, smiled slightly. It was her favourite part.

"'But, my sweetest of princelings,' croaked the frog, 'I ask of only the smallest favour in return for wealth beyond your wildest imaginations. You would be made king, so happy would your father be!' The prince found appeal in the idea, so often overshadowed by his taller, older, and much better at fencing, brother. Still, the prince thought, his princely eyes returning to the plump frog, it was so _unhygienic._" Soul told the story well, Maka noted, pleasantly surprised. His voice was a joy to listen to and, to her growing amusement, he used different voices for different characters.

"'Very well,' the prince mumbled finally, and puckered his lips like a fish, squeezing his eyes tightly shut. He leaned down and pressed a single kiss to the slimy skin of the frog, lingered a moment or two - just to be sure - and pulled away with disgust. 'Egh!' exclaimed the prince. 'Egh! Wh—'"

"'What vile, distasteful blasphemy is this? That I should kiss a frog and like it!'" Maka interjected with a faded grin.

Tears were draining down her face.

Soul continued on as though he hadn't been interrupted. "And from the frog, a beautiful boy emerged, his skin as green and mucousy as ever, but perfectly handsome in the eyes of the dazzled prince." Soul paused, head tilting. "Was the mucous drugged?"

Maka snorted, taking the chance to reach around him and swipe up the book. She held it reverently, fingers tracing the ornate letters of the cover. "Don't be silly, they're in love." She sighed. "My father read this to me every night for years, always at the same time, just before the sun would set and we lost the light. He always said sunlight was the best light to read by."

"He was probably right."

Maka nodded, still touching the story book with trembling fingers. "It was Tobias, wasn't it?" she intoned suddenly. Soul looked over his shoulder at her, his gaze calm as he met her own levelly. "Tobias killed my father. The body was found abandoned in an alley, but it was _him_."

Soul didn't try and deny it, didn't sugar coat it, and for that she was grateful. "That's what Kid believes. Apparently Spirit had quite a debt. It could be a motive."

Maka clenched her fingers, lips pressed thinly as she shook her head. "No, we've always been in debt. It's more than that. He did it because I'm in the tournament."

"Most likely," Soul agreed, before reaching over and wiping away the remnants of her tears.

"You know, he's probably happier now," Maka looked down at the worn leather cover, feeling bitter in the worst way. "Probably glad Tobias killed him."

Soul remained silent, watching her patiently.

"He's always been unhappy," she explained, her throat horribly tight. She cleared it with a miserable sniff. "No matter what I try to tell myself. I've known for awhile that he was ready to leave but—" her words broke off with a choked cry and her face fell into her hands "—I wasn't ready! _I'm still not ready_. Why did that no good bastard leave me!? Rotten good for nothing father." Her shoulders shook as she cried, the tears raining down her face. Arms wrapped around her gently and she was pulled against a warm chest. "I hate him," Maka muttered, wiping the tears away, wishing it were true so badly it hurt. "_I hate him so much_."

Soul kissed her neck, and the action was so unexpected, Maka jerked back and looked at him in surprise.

He regarded her calmly. "Are we going to do this, Maka?"

"Wha—?"

He brushed a lock of her hair behind her ear. "Are we fighting? We're meant to be at the arena in an hour."

The words hit her hard, a reminder of the tournament, the stakes. It had all been to prove her worth to her father, to get a better life for them both. Would it still be worth it? Now that he was gone.

Yes, she realized, as she watched Soul play with her hair absently, it would be. If not for her, then for the life partner she'd found herself. And Tobias would be there, waiting for her. If she wasn't there, he would be so pleased, his fat rolls jiggling with the force of his own ego.

"Yes," she said, wiping the tears from her cheeks. "We are."

If not for her father, then for herself.

* * *

><p>…<p>

Perhaps, Maka thought, as she entered the dust coated gates of the coliseum, there had been a time in her life when she'd been angrier than she was now. However, as the violent waves of fury crashed through her, heating her chest and boiling her blood, she could not think of it.

"Ready?" Soul asked beside her, knowing damn well how she was feeling but asking anyway. The jerk.

"Don't ask stupid questions," she said simply, raising her chin and pushing her shoulders back. Without a backward glance, Maka walked to the meeting room.

"So that's a no, then."

The smart-ass reply didn't, to Maka's surprise, come from Soul, and when she turned her head it was to see the cocky grin of Blackstar. Hair as vibrant and gravity-defying as ever, Blackstar pushed off the wall he'd been casually slouching against and approached them both.

"Shut up, idiot," Maka muttered, but couldn't help the weary smile that spread across her lips. It was good to see him.

"You okay?" he asked, scrutinizing her expression.

"I'm fine." Blackstar raised a skeptical brow and she sighed. "I'll be better once this is all over."

"Fair enough," he allowed, reaching over to ruffle her hair. "Come on, people are waiting for you. They were wondering if you'd make it."

"And you?" Maka couldn't help but ask, pushing his arm away and patting down her pigtails.

A loud, obnoxious snort. "I don't have cowards for friends," he said simply, hands finding his pockets. "Now come on, dork-lords, it's time to get ready—the pre-pubescent master and commander is eagerly awaiting your arrival."

And that, apparently, was that.

* * *

><p>…..<p>

"The six of you will be fighting each other before the official final round to see which four will go on. You will each be given a weapon and will not be allowed to join together until the official final round begins," Kid explained carefully as Maka adjusted the stiff leather of her armour, lacing the back as best she could.

"Is that why you've made Soul wear armour too?" she asked.

"Exactly. Now, Tobias _should_ allow it to be a fair fight, but still be aware of oddities. He is an unpredictable sort of man, and angry in a way that isn't completely sane."

Maka stopped, frowning at Kid. "You think he's mad?"

"I know his mind is sick, perhaps with madness, perhaps with something else. No man of a clear head would do the things he's done." Kid opened his mouth, perhaps to say something else, but he closed it with a shake of his head. After a moment, he simply told her, "Just be careful."

Maka gave up on the laces. "Wait! What makes you think he'd leave me alone at all?"

Kid grinned, pushing his shoulders back. "He may have had a visit from an out of town prince who had taken a liking to a certain female competitor."

Understanding dawned and Maka grinned. "You dog."

"Yeah, well, I have to take care of my assets. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll leave you to finish getting ready. We'll be at the gate."

Maka felt hands at her back take up the abandoned laces and start to tie them tightly and securely. "You've made friends," the warm voice said behind her, familiar to her, and stealing more of her heart each day.

She looked over her shoulder, watched as Soul concentrated on the tangle of ties that secured her armour. "It seems that way."

"Are you ready?" he asked next, quiet as his first statement.

"Not really," Maka admitted, facing forward. She took a deep breath—or tried to. It was difficult with the compressing leather. "I don't want to do this, Soul," Maka confessed silently. "I don't think I'm read—ow!"

"Sorry."

"You did that on purpose," she grumbled, her fingers twitching. "I'm just saying I—"

A second sharp pinch had her cursing.

"If you talk like that," Soul bit out, finishing up with a final jerk of the leather laces. "We are already dead." He grabbed her by the shoulders and twisted her around to face him. "And though I didn't know your father well, I do know he wouldn't want that."

"I'm feeling the urge to punch you right now," she said it through gritted teeth, glaring at him through loose wisps of her hair.

Soul smirked. "Good. I prefer you angry." He turned solemn then, squeezing her shoulders once, twice. "If you don't want to, we won't. But you'll never forgive yourself otherwise, and we'll never get a chance to show Tobias what we're both made of." His hand stroked her face. "When you bound us you made sure I would follow you no matter where you went."

Her mouth opened as the sharp guilt bloomed in her heart, but he held a hand to halt her.

"I would now gladly do so regardless of the compulsion," Soul murmured, then pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I'll be waiting with the others."

And then she was once again alone.

The quiet of the room was deafening, if one discounted the echo of cheers that reverberated through the stone walls.

Her eyes found the tarnished mirror fastened to one wall above a sitting table, brought in to help warriors prepare for battle. Mindlessly, she walked towards it, feet dragging on the cold ground as her face appeared in the dust-coated glass.

Her head raised to stare at her reflection. She looked for something in her own green gaze, perhaps a sign of strength. A sign that she was something more than a girl attempting something foolish.

All she saw was herself.

But she was enough. She could do this. Her fingers left splinters in the wood as she unclenched her grip

"Just do it," she hissed to herself, glaring into her reflection. "Just do it."

A final, deep breath, and Maka turned and left the room, opening up the door to the dark hallway. She held her head high though her legs shook. Why was it so much harder this time? she wondered. When all the other times she'd done it so easily?

Everyone stood waiting for her by the gates, the light of the colosseum ring entrance near blinding. Soul turned to her, calm and waiting.

"Knock'em dead, kid," Blackstar said, patting her hard on the back as she passed him.

Tsubaki greeted her next, wrapping her up in a strong hug before she could reach her partner. "Be careful, you two. And good luck." She gave a final, desperate squeeze before letting her go.

Liz nodded solemnly to her, while Pattie winked and gave an enthusiastic thumbs up. She offered them both a quick smile.

Kid was last in line. "You'll be fine," he told her, adjusting her shoulder pads and dusting off her hair. "Just keep what I told you in mind."

"Got it, thank you."

Maka turned to Soul with a great sigh. "Ready?"

He grinned, lips spreading to reveal jagged teeth.

It was answer enough. Her smile was instant.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

"Welcome, ladies, gentlemen, and all those in between, to the final explosive battle of our gladiator tournament!"

The crowd roared, hooting and hollering beneath the blinding rays of the sun. Maka squinted up at them, hand shielding her eyes. They were all too high up to see anyone in clear detail, but their flailing was certainly discernible. Tobias was also up there, in his own box high above the stadium, safe and fat with his hoard of food. Huffing quietly, Maka turned to face her opponents. "Let's get this over with," she muttered. "I feel like I need a bath every time his eyes are on me."

"We'll get him soon enough," Soul promised, and she could tell his own eyes were glaring singularly up at the man.

The sheer malice in his words made her pause. "What do you mean?" Maka asked. When Soul didn't answer, she elbowed him hard enough in his side that his head swiveled down to glare at her. "_What do you mean, Soul?_ I'm not exactly in the mood to be covered in black magic, buddy. Control the anger."

He didn't say anything to that, and Maka was just about to pinch him when the announcer's loud voice came back.

"The winner of this round will take home the trophy, win 100,000 gold, and for our rookie contestants, a chance to become a regular all-star gladiator in the ring! Our three competitors are: in the blue paint, Giriko and Golem, in the green paint, Wes and Evans, and in the red paint, Maka and Soul!"

Maka shifted uncomfortably, her armour feeling heavier than normal as she looked across the ring. Not twenty feet away, Giriko stood with his partner, his usual shit-eating grin wide on his face.

Her head turned away a second too late, and she caught his gaze from the corner of her eye. She could have groaned when he turned towards her. "Hey, pigtails!" Giriko called over. "Don't think that I've forgotten about our little bet. You still have to show me your tits!"

Maka felt her cheeks flush, though even she couldn't be sure whether the blood rose from humiliation or anger. Probably a volatile mixture of the two. She was careful to keep her eyes forward.

"Don't worry," Soul's warm voice said beside her. Surprised, she looked up at him. "He'll be dead before this round is over." It sounded like a promise, and as Maka studied Soul's determined profile, she realized it was one. The tight knot in her chest loosened somewhat.

"That or we will be," he grinned wickedly at her, "so either way it won't be an issue."

She couldn't help it, Maka laughed, a loud and uproarious sound that erupted deep from her belly. The urge to kiss him was a strong one, to smother his perfect face with butterfly kisses from his forehead to his chin. Instead, she just grinned up at him, till her cheeks hurt from the smiling.

She punched him.

When he jolted forward, rubbing his upper arm with a look of confusion, she merely faced forward, feeling content for the first time since perhaps she'd learned the news of her father. "Thanks," she whispered under her breath, shy for reasons she'd think about later.

"Crazy," he muttered, still rubbing his abused skin. After a moment of looking at her oddly, though, he breathed out through his nose. "You're welcome."

Maka beamed at him.

Across from them (and earning several glances from her partner when he thought no one was looking) was Wes, the enigmatic "brother" of Soul. The former wisp stood with his arms folded across his chest, his expression stoic. He saw her watching and winked.

Tobias stood up in his box in the stands, arms opening in a grand gesture. "Welcome," he bellowed, voice no doubt amplified by magic, "ladies and gentlemen, to the fourth and final round of our Gladiator tournament!" The crowd roared in response.

"It would appear, however," Tobias continued when the cheers had abated to a gentle hum, "that we have_ three_ competitors left. Now, I don't know about you all, but this arrangement seems somewhat...anticlimactic, don't you think?"

A slither of unease ran up Maka's spine as she watched Tobias warily. He was looking directly at her, she knew, those black eyes like empty pits as they pinned her.

Tobias grinned then, the yellow of his teeth a stark contrast to his pasty skin. "To make this more exciting for our extraordinary spectators, we will be allowing a small preliminary match in which one of our three contestants will be cut off, leaving a final match up for two finalists. I would take this moment to thank you all for coming, and I do hope you enjoy our final round."

Cheers, loud and echoing, rang a third time round the pit. The announcer, showing himself for the first time as he stood atop a hovering platform—a blue-skinned man in a sparkling jacket—took over where Tobias left off, and all eyes turned to him as he flew around the arena. All but Maka, who continued to watch Tobias, returning his taunting gaze with a dark frown.

He inclined his head to her, lifting a crystal goblet to his mouth—the wine it held, red as blood, clung to his lips when the glass lowered.

In the background, the announcer spoke. "In this round, contestants will remain separate from their partners. When only two pairs are left, the bell will ring twice, signaling the final battle between the two remaining gladiators. At this time, the warriors and the wisps will be allowed to join."

The announcer zoomed down, the buzzing of his platform loud as he neared the base of the ring. "If the contestants would form a triangle around me, please."

Eyes locked on Giriko and shoulders back, Maka walked forward purposefully, not bothering to wait for Soul. She stopped just before the floating platform, Giriko's leering face catching her eye. He licked his teeth and squeezed his crotch.

Maka raised her chin slightly, just enough so that she looked down her nose at him. It didn't seem to bother him at all, his intense gaze unwavering.

"We're killing him first," Soul murmured under his breath as he stopped slightly behind her.

"Don't worry," Maka returned, "there was never another option."

The announcer cleared his throat. "Weapons will be given to each being, however these are only temporary and will disappear once we are down to two teams."

On queue, six balls of blue light burst down from the sky. One floated down in front of Maka and, hesitantly, she touched her hand into the light. It burst out, blinding her with its intensity as a weight filled her palm. When the light faded, Maka opened her eyes to see the weapon she would be fighting with.

A fucking garrote wire.

"Motherfu..." she bit off her own curse and, growling, wrapped the wire around her hand. It was better than nothing. She chanced a furtive glance to her side, hoping that Soul at least had something decent.

He was glaring down at a spoon.

Death help them.

The bell tolled three times, signaling the start of the battle.

"Maka."

"I know, I know."

Together they braced, moving back to back, but to Maka's surprise, they needn't have bothered.

Wes and his partner ran in front of them, their weapons noticeably better as they poised them to strike. Soul faltered behind her, and she could feel his confusion. "Wes, what are—"

"Step aside, little brother, leave this to the big boys," Wes called without looking over his shoulder, amusement in his voice.

"Wait, why are you doing this!?" Soul took a step forward but Maka grabbed his arm, halting him.

Wes ignored Soul's question, holding up the broadsword in his hand and walking towards Giriko. Soul tugged again, but Maka held him steady. Though she felt his confusion, and she could see how his gaze locked desperately on his brother, he didn't try to pull free again.

Giriko spoke loudly when he addressed Wes, hip cocked to the side. "You really think you can defeat me, one eye?"

"I do."

The grin that grew on Giriko's face was malicious. Maka squeezed Soul's sleeve, her unease rising. "Something's wrong," Maka said. A muscle in Soul's jaw twitched but he remained silent, simply watching his brother.

"Are you sure about that?" Giriko asked, playing with the serrated blade in his hand.

"Yes, I—" Wes paused, feet frozen, and almost instantly Maka knew it was Tobias. Her eyes darted to where she knew he was in the stands, and the cruel smile was evidence enough.

"Soul, Tobias is controlling him."

"I know," he said, appearing physically ill.

Wes jerked, trying to lift his legs and move his arms, but he was frozen in place.

"Can you remove it?" she asked.

Swallowing, Soul shook his head. "I tried. If it was on you, maybe, but not—"

The single slice tore through Wes's neck, tearing it almost clean off if not for the tethers of stretching sinew that kept the head attached for a moment longer. Then the body fell in a dead thud to the ground. It kicked up a small plume of dust, masking the gruesome sight before it too settled, leaving only the horror filled images in its absence.

Aside from a sharp gasp, Soul remained silent beside her. She could feel it though, the sudden and gaping hole in her heart, and for a moment Maka struggled to breathe.

Then the black magic wrapped around her like an inky blanket. Maka jumped when she saw the darkness smoking off Soul in waves. "Soul," Maka cautioned, authority in her tone. "Keep it together—"

"AAAHHHH!"

The inhuman scream tore Maka's attention away from her partner, and she looked over in shock to see Evans, Wes's warrior, clutching his head in agony. She frowned, brows furrowed. "Wha—?"

"You've killed me!" the man screamed, shrieking his pain to the world. "You bastards, _you've killed me!_"

The words, an odd echo of her past that left a sharp pang in her chest, had Maka shooting a guilty glance at Soul. He wasn't looking at her, instead intently focused on Evans. Maka followed his gaze back to the breaking warrior, only to see him rise, death in his eyes as he faced Giriko.

He charged, weaponless, with such fervour and rage that, for a moment, Maka believed him to be invincible.

But Giriko struck him down with the same ease he'd killed Soul's brother, further drenching his body with blood. Maka watched, frozen as the second body dropped that day and painted the brown dust red. If not painless, she thought, swallowing, then it was at least a swift death.

"You're next, lovely."

Maka calmly turned to Giriko.

The bell, loud and clear, tolled two times. "FIGHT PAUSE! GLADIATORS JOIN!"

They did so, in a violent swarm of black magic that left an acrid taste in her mouth. It was more concentrated than usual, and Maka could feel Soul struggling to push it back.

She walked to the centre of the ring, the dust swirling around her like a small storm as she stared down her final opponent. Soul's unease was like a tight knot in her chest, and every now and then his compulsion to check their surroundings for an additional threat took over her control and had her eyes darting anxiously around the field before she batted him back.

Maka took a deep breath in attempt to calm them both.

This was it.

Everything they'd done in the last week now came down to this. If they won, they'd go down in history. They'd never be forgotten, even when the sands of time took their souls.

Her eyes flickered to Tobias, his fat form sitting safely in the stands, the whites of his eyes abnormally pronounced as he glared down at her in silent rage. Tobias sneered further when he noticed he had her attention, squeezing the violet-skinned girl on his knee till she released an inaudible gasp of pain. His guards shifted behind him.

"So this is it, then."

Maka looked back at Giriko, his hair windblown and his face relaxed. "I suppose," she answered, could feel Soul's caution as he watched him through her eyes.

The bell tolled. Once. Twice.

"FIGHT!"

"May the best gladiator win," Giriko offered good-naturedly.

Maka clenched her hands around the steaming scythe blades in her hands. _I intend to. _

The third bell rang loud through the stadium and Maka launched herself at Giriko, the battle cry releasing from her lips as she ran at him. He dodged the first strike easily, swinging his sword in a wide arc in retaliation. It nicked the hard leather of her armour, but Maka jumped back before he could deal any further damage.

_Let me fight! _Soul shouted from within her, and she could feel his will trying to take over before she fought him back.

"No," she hissed, quickly pulling up her blade to defend against a strike. "This is my fight." She felt Soul back off reluctantly.

"Tired yet?" Giriko asked in his usual charming tone.

Maka only glared and lunged forward again, sweeping her blades in a figure eight that had Giriko jumping back in surprise. She spun again, twisting on the balls of her feet to slice the edge of her blade against his leg.

He growled and swiped back but she was already dancing away. She shot him a grin as the adrenaline rushed through her. "You done?" she asked, twirling her blades expertly, as her father had shown her all those years ago.

"You're good," he allowed, raising his weapons once more. His easy attitude had vanished, replaced with one of agitation. "Not good enough." He lunged forward again.

Maka spun away, was about to slam both weapons down on him when her hands slowed. Panic took over her heart, fast and powerful.

Another spell. She looked up at the stands, could see Tobias with his hands raised, blue light swirling around him.

_Soul_, she warned.

_I'm on it._

Maka jumped back, as far away from Giriko as she could in her current state. She felt slow, as though she was moving through thick molasses. Even blinking took time as she watched in fear as her opponent ran at her.

_Move! _Soul commanded. She did so, pushing out with her legs. There was a hint of residual resistance, struggling to keep her in place, but she soon broke through it and was mobile once more. A breath of relief passed her lips.

"Thanks," she whispered, gathering her bearings.

The bell tolled and the announcers voice shouted clear through the ring. "GLADIATORS SEPARATE!"

"What!?" Maka shouted, but she could already feel Soul forcefully pushed out of her body. She fought to keep him with her. "Again?!"

Despite her efforts, Soul was ripped away and he stood beside her an instant later. Her features returned to normal, her weapons gone. Giriko and his partner stood across from them, looking at ease as they stretched smugly.

"They knew," she hissed at Soul.

"Yes," he agreed, glaring up at Tobias who sat smug in his throne. Soul took her hand and tugged her from the middle of the ring, watching the area around them cautiously.

"The weapons, go!" Soul cried, pointing to the decorative weapons nailed to the inside walls of the ring.

Together they ran to the edges, leaping at the walls once they arrived. Maka tugged at a large sword, pulling with all her might. "It's no use," she grunted, panting as she released it. "It's nailed down too firmly."

"Step back!" Soul ordered, blasting at the weapon.

It unhinged beneath the force of the black magic and dropped in her hands. It weighed more than her own weapons, and her arms were pulled down with the force. "I don't know if this is going to work," she muttered, struggling with the heavy weapon.

"Try," Soul urged, turning back to face their opponents. He did so just in time to push Maka away from a bolt of magic. They landed in a heap and Soul quickly pulled her up. "Take Giriko," he panted. "I've got the wisp."

Maka nodded and they separated. She walked towards the warrior Giriko, who waited for her patiently, having retrieved a large ax from the wall. "Give up," he said, bouncing the handle of his weapon on his hand. "You don't have a chance."

Maka hoisted the broadsword over her shoulder, panting with its weight. "I'm not giving up," she said fiercely.

Giriko shrugged. "I suppose you are a brave little thing," he conceded. "Although a mite stubborn for your own good." With that, he charged, the ax held high and threatening.

Maka barely dodged in time, weighed down so much by her own weapon. For a moment she considered ditching it but quickly shook the idea off. Without a weapon she'd be gone before the fight even started.

She lifted the sword above her head and lunged towards Giriko—but too late saw her mistake. The weight threw her off and when she missed, Giriko had easy access.

His axe broke through her arm, snapping the bone like a wet toothpick.

Maka screamed in pain, collapsing to the blood soaked sand. The pain was excruciating, like nothing she'd ever felt before in her life. With shaky fingers, she reached out and clutched her detached arm, connected only by skin and taught sinew.

"Maka!" Soul's shrieks registered faintly in her muffled mind. The tears drained from her cheeks, and almost instinctively she looked up just as Giriko was raising his ax above his head to strike.

"Maka!"

The axe was blown from Giriko's fingers and suddenly Soul was beside her, crouching down in the sand painted red. Without warning, he grabbed her arm with one hand, her shoulder with the other, and pulled the limb free. Maka screeched at the loss, an unholy sound that heightened the bloodthirsty cheers around them. Soul's bloodied fingers clasped her sweat-coated cheeks, stopping her when she would have reached for her arm. "Look at me," he told her firmly. "Maka, look at me."

She did, his appearance blurry through her tears. "You have to focus," Soul told her, his thumb brushing her cheek. "You have to help me."

She nodded.

The bell tolled. "GLADIATORS JOIN!"

Soul instantly vanished in a plume of black magic and joined Maka. The smoke materialized from her ragged stump and grew into an arm. She clenched it and breathed deeply. The sword appeared next.

_You okay? _Soul asked, his warm voice a familiar comfort in her head.

"Yes," she breathed, testing out her new arm. She breathed deeply. "I can do it."

_Maka! _

Maka looked up to see Giriko's ax swing down towards her. She rolled out of the way, the mystic metal creating a deep crevasse where she'd just stood. Her eyes darted up to Giriko's. "Eyes on me, sweetheart," he chided.

Maka darted back, swinging her swords around her before steadying them in a single defensive stance.

"Give up, love," Giriko tried. "You know you can't beat me."

"Do I?" Maka asked, arching an eyebrow. "Because we've been fighting for an awful long time and I'm still standing."

Giriko's easy smile faltered at that and he just glared. "Fine. I gave you an out, but if you're so eager for death then you got it." He swung at her and then they were fighting.

Their blades bounced off each other as they fought in tight circles, their footwork precise and their movements like dancers. But the fight wasn't even. It was obvious that Maka had the upper hand since, though weaker, she was much faster, and her technique more polished.

Giriko's frustrations soon showed on his face and his blows grew choppy, less deliberate and more rage-induced. His hands came together for an overhead blow and Maka saw her chance; dodging the powerful strike easily, she kicked him in the jaw with her foot and watched him fly backwards.

She was on him an instant later, her sandal planted on his chest and her scythe blades crossed at his neck. "Surrender," she seethed through gritted teeth, panted as the sweat beaded on her forehead.

"Never," Giriko grated.

"I will kill you," Maka snapped, stomping her foot down when he struggled beneath her. "Don't think I won't."

He spat in her face.

_Maka, do it. _Soul's voice was calm and final in her mind.

"Fine," she grated, teeth clenched. Here scythes crossed, slicing through his neck easily.

The battle was over.

* * *

><p>….<p>

The dust settled in the ring as the body lay dead, blood cooling. Not far from it, Wes lay just as silent, just as cold. She felt within her breast the ache Soul experienced at the loss, but it was a distant pain, one soothed by years of distance and disagreement.

She breathed deeply, shoulders rising and falling as the exhaustion caught up with her. Was it finally over? Had they finally done it?

"_NO!_" The furious roar was sudden and invasive, echoing like thunder around the ring. All eyes snapped to the source, to Tobias, as he stood from his bedazzled throne in a red-faced rage. His fingers were clenched into meaty fists as he towered above. "_I WILL NOT ALLOW THIS!_" he yelled, the whites of his eyes seen from all corners of the colosseum.

Guards emerged suddenly from the gates around the ring, armed and masked as they marched forward. Wary, Maka took a defensive stance, eyes moving from the guards to Tobias in confusion. "What's going on?" she whispered.

_Be ready to fight, _Soul replied, sounding grim. _I don't think he appreciates the loss._

And, as if to prove his words, Tobias' screams erupted one last time. "_KILL HER! I WANT THEM DEAD! KILL HER!"_

Murmurs of confusion could be heard from the crowd as the metal-clad men stomped towards Maka, their armour clanging with each marching step. They picked up speed until they were running, their guttural shouts ringing as they all raised their weapons.

Maka clenched her fists around her blades, and braced herself as best she could.

She traded blows with her first opponent, who went down easily enough beneath the superior strength of her magically enforced weapons. A bone broke beneath her foot as she kicked the felled body away, the ribs incomparable to her strength.

_You're getting tired,_ Soul cautioned, his words soft.

"I got this," Maka grated in return, wincing as claws raked down her back unexpectedly, tearing through the leather. She whirled around and caught the perpetrator in his skull with the heel of her sandal. "I'm fine," she panted, wiping the sweat from her forehead before it could drip into her eyes.

_Maka!_

Maka looked up as Tobias himself stomped towards her, his hands already gathering magic. He threw it from his palm with a roar; it connected with her chest and threw her across the field with dizzying force.

Her back hit the rusted steel walls of the ring, thankfully avoiding the lethal spikes that lined it. She coughed, pushing herself up off the ground, only to fall back on her rear in the dust.

"GET UP!" Tobias roared, hand shooting out towards her. He constricted his hand, and she felt the invisible force like a vice around her neck. She was lifted from the ground then, and though she fought the unseen grip, slicing it with her scythes and kicking out, her efforts proved fruitless. "I SAID GET UP!"

The power forced her against the wall behind her, holding her there as Tobias walked towards her. "I hate you," he said. "I hated your father, I hated your whore of a mother. You should all just DIE!"

Though the pressure around her neck increased, Maka choked out, "My mother?"

"She was my favourite concubine, and decided to run off with that scumbag father of yours. As soon as she came back for her things I ordered her killed. Spirit, though, didn't seem too put out about it, so I killed his precious wisp for good measure." He was waddling closer, the luxurious fabric of his robe dragging in the dirt as he grew closer. She could feel Soul fighting within her, to take over, to push her free.

_Fuck! I can't move you_, he grated in her mind. _He's restricting me too._

The black magic soaked through him in his anger, and Maka sensed it creeping through her mind, lapping at her with its toxic tendrils. Soul pulled it back, but it remained, steadily increasing in power the closer Tobias came.

"When finally I had him where I wanted him, put in his place, _you _showed up. He started paying his bills, stopped gambling, stopped drinking, stopped _whoring_ around." She was pushed harder into the wall; her leather armour protested loudly. "Then, to make everything worse, _you _joined _my _tournament with a wisp with _black magic_."

Maka coughed, her eyes watering. The air had completely left her lungs.

"Now," Tobias panted, white-eyed and crazed, the veins of his neck protruding, "you die."

He raised his free hand, collected power within his palm, and aimed.

"Not today, fatass!" A dagger wizzed by suddenly, slicing Tobias's hand mid-dair. He shrieked aloud in rage, clutching his wounded arm. Maka fell from his grip to the ground, clutching her throat and wheezing. Eyes rising she saw a flash of blue, charging a nearby guard with a kick to the head.

"Are you alright?"

Maka looked up further to find Tsubaki standing over her, throwing knives in her palm. With her spare hand, she clutched Maka's shoulder. Barely managing a nod, Maka allowed Tsubaki to lift her up.

"Soul?" she asked.

_M'fine_, he replied, _just a bit of trouble with the black magic._

"Kiss this, terrorist fiends!" someone, presumably Pattie, shouted nearby—blasting guards with her guns.

"Everyone's here," Tsubaki told her, somewhat grimly, as she watched her father glare back at her. "We expected something like this to happen."

"Tsubaki, what the hell are you doing?" Tobias yelled.

"What's right." Though the tears rained down her face, Maka noted that Tsubaki stood firm and unrelenting, facing her father with no slouch in her posture nor indecision in her eyes.

Tobias seethed, baring his yellowed teeth. "Then you will die with them. GUARDS!"

More guards, clothed in armour, poured out of the gates. Once in line, they pointed their weapons towards Maka and Tsubaki.

Shots fired from behind them, just over their hands, embedding into the faces of the guards. A moment later, Kid zoomed in front of them, balanced on his hoverboard, twin pistols in hand. He turned to Maka, grinning. "I'd say you've done enough for one day, how about leaving the rest to us?"

Maka smiled weakly at him. "Thanks."

Liz appeared next, her own gun in hand and propped against her shoulder. "Don't worry about it Maka. We got these losers covered. You rest up and take it easy."

And for a moment, Maka believed her. The gunshots rang like firecrackers around them, but guards were retreating, lessening in number as they fell dead to the ground. Her body relaxed before she could stop it. For a second she believed it was over.

Then she saw Tobias.

The magic swarmed around him in an angry small storm, and for some reason no one else seemed to notice it. Pattie had even begun to celebrate, dancing in a circle even as the magic rose to dangerous levels.

"Why can't they see it?" Maka asked, knowing Soul saw what she did.

_They don't have the level of magic we have_, Soul said, sounding strained.

She noticed his pain immediately. "Soul? What's wrong?"

_The black magic is reacting to it… I can't… Maka I… _Just as Tobias's magic erupted, bursting from him in a wild torrent, Soul's did the same.

It came all at once, powerful and sudden, pushing through her with inky darkness to clutch her limbs and encompass her being. The black magic coursed through her, free and without reins.

And it felt good.

Unbelievably good.

The world around her seemed to slow as Maka lifted her head to her opponent, saw Tobias shaking with energy, his hand raised—poised to strike. "TODAY," he roared, the people around him finally starting to notice the power he wielded. "TODAY YOU DIE!"

The shot blasted from both his hands, bursting at her in a giant blue mass of energy. It sizzled as it neared, and Maka felt her hair raise from the static. She dodged, diving out of the way in time to save all but the tips of her sandals.

Maka rolled to her feet and collected the magical weapons in her hands, now completely black. She leapt towards Tobias, crashing through the meager shield he put up—no obstacle for the explosive power rushing through her.

With her feet, she pushed him into the red sand. She pulled back her arms and dug the black blades into the softness of his belly. They sunk deep, blood spurting.

"No, today _you_ die," she hissed.

He spat red in her face, glaring up at her from beneath his thick brows. "We both do," he said, and his fingers twitched beside him, lifting and curling slightly in a beckoning motion. The grin on his face was manic, teeth stained with blood.

_Maka!_

She turned, just in time to see the great ball of blue energy, the same one she'd dodged earlier with such success, bounding towards her. She went to push herself up, but slipped, sticky hands clamped around her arms. When she turned down it was to see that same crazed grin on his face. "Time to die," he wheezed, fat fingers squeezing her flesh harder.

_MAKA!_

She felt Soul beginning to separate, probably to try and pull her free, but it was too late, the blast hit her full force in the back, launching her into the air. Maka landed several feet away, immobile.

She knew, almost instantly, that the blow was fatal. Soul separated from her, his magic leaving her. The arm that had been cut off was once again absent, the stub bleeding like a dying fountain around her. She was collected up into arms and rolled onto her back. They were surprisingly warm, she thought vaguely, eyelids heavy.

Or maybe she was just cold.

"Maka! Maka!" A hand slapped her face gently, but her head merely lolled back against his chest. Her eyes closed.

The golden binding bracelet slid off her wrist and into a pool of her blood.

Maka's heart had stopped beating.

* * *

><p>….<p>

In a way, she knew she'd died. Air did not enter her body, and the blood had slowed to a standstill in her veins, yet still she was present. Her eyes watched blankly from the cold corpse of her own body, as her friends fell to their knees around her.

There was no bright light, as she'd heard prophets explain, no greater calling. She merely watched from blank eyes as the bracelet fell from her wrist, then from Soul's.

She heard his inhuman screams, and his cries of rage and sorrow. It would have broken her had she been whole. Soul trembled as she watched, shaking with her dormant body clutched like a lifeline in his arms.

As she watched, his skin grew paler, more translucent. He began to glow—an ethereal light that shone from his skin.

He was once again a wisp.

Tsubaki neared him, hand outstretched. Tears shimmered in her eyes, as she hesitantly spoke. "Soul—"

He jolted back when her head brushed his shoulder, taking Maka with him. "Don't touch me!" he spat, pushing away. "You filthy fucking human." A tear ran down his cheek.

Maka felt detached from the scene, and in the deepest part of her she knew it must be him that still kept her tethered to life. The urge to reach over and touch him was a strong one, but no matter how hard she tried, her limbs remained still.

"Soul, give her to me!" It was Kid's voice. "Soul, Liz can help her, but you have to hand her over."

"Don't fucking touch her! I hate you all, you miserable pieces of ungrateful _filth!_" He spat each word with complete and utter loathing.

"Well, someone needs a timeout," Blackstar said from somewhere nearby, directly before she was ripped from her former partner's arms.

Soul lashed out, lunging for her, but he was promptly punched in the face by Blackstar, who had since passed her off to Kid.

"Quickly, place her on the ground!" Liz came into view, hovering above her as she rubbed her hands together quickly. Between them static sparked. She pulled them apart, sizzling electricity sparking from her palms, before slapping them down onto Maka's chest.

The shock was all encompassing, charging every molecule in her body and shaking her limbs. She jolted, once, twice.

Then Maka woke, gasping for breath as life returned to her.

"Maka!?" Soul shoved aside Blackstar and Liz as he scrambled towards her. Before she could fully register what was happening, or notice the relieved grins of her new friends, she was collected up into his familiar arms and hugged tightly. He was careful to avoid her bleeding arm, which Tsubaki had moved in to bind hastily. The pain had numbed somewhat.

"Soul," she breathed. "You're a wisp again." Her heart ached at the knowledge. He didn't seem to hear her for a long time, content to simply hold her in his arms. The blood that still drained from her stump soaking down his side.

When Soul finally pulled away, as if her words had finally registered, he seemed disoriented, eyes wild and bemused as he examined her face. Then, with an aching slowness that Maka felt like a blade in her chest, he looked down at his transparent hand. At first, she could see only confusion in his expression, but then his gaze returned to hers, and she saw the uncertainty.

He was torn. And it killed her.

Before Maka could say anything, she was brought close again, hugged tightly in his warm embrace. She had the urge to speak, perhaps to comfort the trembling man-turned-wisp, or the people who had helped her survive the past week, but whatever she might have said was cut off.

By a rain drop—a fat glob of water smacking down onto her nose. She was so shocked that any form of thought froze completely.

Kid grinned when she looked at him helplessly for an explanation, raising a hand to the sky. "The drought is over."

"What do you mean?"

"The last fifty years, Tobias has been making this planet go through a drought. He did it so people would get behind his idea for a bigger tournament—when he died, his hold on the weather died with him."

Maka blinked stupidly. "So that means…"

Soul answered for her, a mumbled sentence against her neck. "No more fighting."

* * *

><p>…..<p>

That night, after all the politics of winning a tournament whilst subsequently killing the founder were dealt with, Soul and Maka wandered back to her father's shack. They collapsed together in her bed, and Soul pulled Maka close. His leg flopped over hers, and his arms wrapped tightly around her waist.

He didn't let her go once that entire night.


	12. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

It had been five days since Tobias was killed in the centre of his own ring. Chaos had quickly followed suit, as one might expect, but Tsubaki had taken the throne with a degree of grace that had surprised many. Her first order of business had been to ban the recreational use of wisps, and binding them against their will.

The backlash had been sudden and uproarious, and many were still against the idea—one that promised change to the way of life they'd held for so long. The fact that the drought had ended helped, and that fresh water was now readily available without a lethal trip into the deadly forests, but so many people were set in their ways that it was a recurring issue. Still, Tsubaki held firm with her ideals, and with the help of Kid—who had a surprising knowledge of politics—she was dealing with things.

At least, Maka assumed she was; she hadn't seen the other woman for several days. Maka and Soul had stayed away from the centre of the city, settling instead in a small cottage that Tsubaki had lent them, just outside the outskirts of the city.

They sat now at the entrance to the forest, side by side on the green, fragrant grass. The wind brushed by them as the birds twittered in the distance, and Maka felt the warm breeze tease the strands of her hair, twisting them off her cheek and around her head.

Her arm was slowly healing, and had taken some getting used to. She had put in an order for a robotic one, but it was taking some time to be built. Thankfully with their reward, money was no longer an issue.

Maka breathed in, taking in the smells around her, before exhaling slowly. Despite the serenity of her surroundings, and the seeming calm she exuded, inside she was full of turmoil. Her heart ached acutely, and the breath she'd taken in had hurt as it left her lips.

She looked to her left to see Soul, once again a wisp, sitting quietly at her side. He was looking through a small book, one she'd brought and asked him to read with her. In the five days since the tournament, he had been her constant companion—almost too close at times, if she was being honest.

Every night he held her, squeezing her almost painfully tight within his arms. She also noticed him watching her, wary, as though he expected her to drop dead at any moment. It was at these times that she made sure to press her lips to his until the darkness left his eyes.

He was so close, always with her. And yet the distance between them was constant. Their bond had been broken by her momentary death, and had stolen away something she hadn't realized she treasured so completely. Even as he stood by her now, so close their shoulders brushed with each breath, she felt bereft of him. Empty and alone where she yearned to be whole.

She feared from the very depths of her being that he would leave her. He was a wisp again, the thing he'd wanted from the beginning. At any moment he could decide to leave her. Every now and then she'd see him in his wisp form, a small ball of glowing light, and the twist in her belly left her feeling physically ill each time.

Maka had looked for signs in the passing days, signs that he felt the same way she did. She'd studied his face, his mannerisms, dissected his words, and still nothing. He cared for her, that much she knew, maybe even loved her. But she saw no outward sign that he wanted back the all encompassing bond that they'd once shared.

"Are you happy," she asked then, gathering the courage to voice the burning question in her heart, "that our bond was broken? That we're apart like this now?"

His profile remained the same as he stared down at the pages of the worn novel, his hair fluttering in the wind. Maka failed to smother the urge to touch the soft strands, and reached over to smooth the silky hair at the base of his neck. He leaned into her touch.

"I am," he answered finally, expression free of all emotion.

Maka nodded wordlessly. The words were like a stab wound in her heart, but she understood them. She knew now that it was wrong what she'd done—but though she felt remorse for her actions, she did not regret them. Given the chance to do it again, Maka would steal him just the same. Her fingers continued to brush through his hair, using the repetitive motion in an attempt to soothe her guilt.

"If we'd remained together," he continued belatedly, reaching up to collect her hand from his nape to hold it in his own, "it would have been a constant strain on our relationship. We never would have moved on." He was looking at her now, the red of his eyes intense as he watched her.

Again, Maka nodded. Still, the burn in her chest worsened. She'd hoped he would have at least missed their bond a bit. Wasn't it supposed to affect them both? Maka slumped, digging into the earth with her heels.

"This way," said Soul, interrupting Maka's thoughts, "we can do it knowing what we're getting into."

She started, turning back to face him. "What?"

He held the gold binding bracelets in his hand, produced from the bag at his side. He rubbed one with his thumb as he examined the two thoughtfully.

"Where did you get those?" Maka asked, shocked. Her heart was a pounding drum beneath her breast. She swallowed thickly, struggling to hold down her rising enthusiasm. "I thought they were stolen from the ring after they fell off?"

Soul shook his head. "Tsubaki had them collected and brought them to me several days ago." He was still staring at them, appearing to think deeply about something or other. Finally, he pulled one over his wrist.

Her heart seemed to burst as she watched it close over his arm. He held out the second and waited patiently, eyes focused on her own. Holding his gaze, Maka took it in her hand, her breath bated. "Are you sure?" she asked, fingers trembling. "You'll be human again."

Soul didn't reply, only waited. She wished faintly that she was more adept at reading emotions, because she imagined the ocean of swirling thoughts in his eyes might tell her something of what he was feeling. But she wasn't, and could only hope that what she saw in them was love.

The warm metal slid over her skin and locked around her arm, at once secure and familiar. Soul lost the faint glow around him, and the feeling of being whole rushed through her, an incomparable relief, and for the first time in nearly a week, she felt complete. She felt euphoric.

And then his lips were covering hers, his hands cupping her cheek in an achingly gentle hold. The kiss was desperate, and full of emotion she couldn't decipher, but somehow warmed her heart to the point of near-bursting anyway.

He pulled away, their lips sticking for a moment, and he pressed his forehead to hers. "You are in me to the point where I can't get you out," he whispered, breath mingling with hers as his fingers softly traced the lines of her ribs. "I care for you."

"Good," Maka said with a wicked grin, the relief and joy making her weak and giddy. He pinched her side in silent reprimand and closed his eyes with a contented sigh.

Maka wasn't sure what they'd do now, but she did know they would do it together.

**The End**

* * *

><p>AN: Thank you so much for reading! I'd like to thank my awesome beta's: therewithasmile, raining-down-hearts, Howlingmoonrise, Professor Maka, Khaleesimaka, and the little soul. You are all amazing and thank you so much for all the effort you guys have put in. It was a beast of a fic, and you are all troopers. And thank you resbang mods (if you're reading this) for organizing such a great event, it's been so much fun, and thank you to all you chatzy bums who did dirty quickies with me-they were as quick as they were dirty ;)

Also thanks to my AMAZING, STUPENDOUS, TOTALLY AWESOME artist aqua-twin, who was amazing to work with. She is also hella talented so check out the art she did for this fic (link on my profile page) as well as all her other art, which is also amazing (I should know since I creep her tumblr).


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